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AMERICAN   NOTES: 


LETTERS 


FROM  LONDON    TO   NEW-YORK. 


AN  AMERICAN  LADY. 


Look  here  upon  this  picture  and  on  this." 


NEW-10RK: 

PUBLISHED   BY   H  A  RP  ER  &  BROTH  E  R  S, 

No.  82  CLIFF-STREET. 

1843. 


Entered,  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1843,  by 

HARPER  &  BROTHERS, 
In  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  Southern  District  of  New- York. 


StacK 

Annex 


CONTENTS. 


LETTER  I. 

Recovery  from  Illness.  —  Taxes  in  England.  —  Custom- 
house. -  Strangeness  a  Foreigner  feels  there.— The 
Thames.— General  Merits  of  Mr.  Dickens.— Particular 
Exception.— American  Notes Page  5 

LETTER  II. 

French  Fashions  in  New- York  and  London.— Dress  of 
Queen  Victoria.— Beauty  of  English  and  American  La- 
digs. — Well-preserved  Beauty  in  England. — Opera  Bal- 
lets and  Red  Indian  Dances.  — Regent-street —Rude- 
ness to  Ladies. — Contrast  to  American  Manners. — So- 
lar Notes 6 

LETTER  III. 

Executions. —  New- York  and  London. — Daniel  Good. — 
Executions  Popular  with  the  Many  in  England 8 

LETTER  IV. 

English  and  American  Characteristics.— First  and  Second 
Class  Railway  Carriages.  — Stage-coaches.  — Might  be 
useful  as  Places  of  Punishment.— Great  Western  Rail- 
way.—Windsor  Castle 9 

LETTER  V. 

Untold  Wealth  of  London.— Depth  of  Poverty.— London 
Boys.  —  Drapery  Establishments.  —  Gin  Palaces. —  Col- 
loquy    11 

LETTER  VI. 

*  Craft"  of  Book-making. — Charity  and  Leather  Breech- 
es.—  St.  Paul's  as  a  Theatre.  —  Charity  Dinner. — 
Workhouse. — Newgate. — Felons  who  are  "  Couleur  de 
Rose" 12 

LETTER  Vn. 

A  London  Stroll. — Mr.  Dickens's  good  Fortune  in  Pigs. — 
London  Streets  and  Peculiarities. — St.  Paul's. — Hard- 
ness of  Allegory  in  the  Marble  Monuments.  — Religio 
Loci.— Bank  of  England.— Rich  and  Rude.— Gold  and 
Opium.  —  The  Tower.  —  Harlequinade  of  Streets. — 
Thames  Tunnel. — Presumptuous  Undertaking 15 

LETTER  VIII. 

English  Ignorance  about  America. — Un-reading  but  prac- 
tical Men.— Impartiality  of  English  Ignorance.— Disre- 
gard of  Antiquities  or  Sacred  Places. — A  Fire. — Pasto- 
ral Incendiarism 17 

LETTER  DC. 

Westminster  Abbey. — Not  safe  to  admit  the  Public. — 
Monuments  and  Tombs. — Westminster  Hall. — Houses 
of  Parliament.— Members.— Monomania.— George  III. 
and  Johnson. — Bleatings  in  the  House  of  Commons. — 
Pompey  the  Negro 18 

LETTER  X. 

London  and  American  Dirt. — Chairs. — Dinner  Parties. — 
Music.  — Aristocratic  Literature.  —  Young  Ladies.— 
Much  in  Manner.— Superficial  Knowledge.— Clubs. — 
Frolics  of  Aristocracy. — Fire  Grates. — What  a  Guy  !  21 

LETTER  XI. 

Short  Speech  of  the  English. — Surprising  Ignorance  in 
England.  — Apathy  of  the  Rich.  — Beau  Ideal  of  an 
English  Traveller  in  the  United  States. — English  have 
little  Love  for  their  Country.— Madame  Tussaud's  Wax- 
works.— Heroes. — Murderers,  Wholesale  and  Retail  23 

LETTER  Xn. 

Mrs.  Trollope.- What's  in  a  Name  1— New  Poor  Law.— 
Rich  English  careless  about  the  Poor. — Expediency. — 
Steam  to  Richmond.— B-inks  of  the  Thames  Westward. 
— Richmond  Hill  and  Church.  —  Omnibuses.  —  Cheap 
Discomfort. — Snuff 25 


LETTER  Xin. 

"  Respectable"  versus  "  Smart." — English  Domestic  Ser- 
vants.—  Elisha. —  Sumptuary  Law  among  Servants. — 
Kathleen  O'Reilly.  —  The  Tally.  —  "  An  Old  Tale  and 
often  told" Page  23 

LETTER  XTV. 

DressmaKers. —  Exeter-Hall  Oratory. —  Evils  inflicted  on 
Dressmakers  unredressed.  the  Wrong  being  only  in  Lon- 
don.—Otherwise  if  a  distant  City.— Lowell  Offering.— 
Americans  "  Know  not  Seems." — Prevalent  Vulgarism. 
— Mr.  W.  C 30 

LETTER  XV. 

Churchyards.  —  Horrors  of  City  Sepulture.  —  Villaga 
Churchyards.  —  Flower-garden  Cemeteries.  —  Kensal 
Green. — Mr.  Morison. —  Uuackery. —  Abney  Park. — In- 
dia House. — Treaties  of  Cession  from  Hindoos  and  oth- 
er Orientals.  —  Worship  of  Juggernaut  and  Gates  of 
Somnauth  to  be  conducive  to  Christianity  in  the  East. 
—London  Citizens.— Easily  distinguishable.— Specula- 
tion in  their  Eyes. — Quakers. — Jews 32 

LETTER  XVI. 

Queen  s  Drawing-room.  —  Procession.  —  Footmen.  —  A 
Tuft-hunter.— The  Poor.— English  and  Roman  Benev- 
olence.— Illuminations. — Street  Crowds  and  Badinage. 
— Bridges. —  Banks  of  the  Thames  Eastward.  — Green- 
wich.—Painted  Hall.— Chapel.— Cost  of  the  Embellishv 
meats  dwelt  upon.  —  So  very  English.  —  Instance  of 
Gallantry 34 

LETTER  XVII. 

Phrenology.— Anecdote.—  British  Museum.— Vastness.— 
Erudition  of  some  of  the  Visitors. — National  Gallery. — 
Royal  Academy.— The  Exhibition.— Portraits.— Adver- 
tisements.—Duhvich.— The  Polytechnic  Exhibition. .  36 

LETTER  XVIII. 

Rain.  —  Advertisements  on  Wheels.  —  Puffs  and  Sand- 
wiches.—Boz  keeps  himself  very  close.— Boz  an  An- 
tagonist of  the  Pretending. — Faultlessness  of  Money. — 
Omnibuses.  —  Provisions  for  Christmas  Enjoyment.  — 
Boxing-dav. — May  Sports. — Streets  at  Night 39 

LETTER  XIX. 

London  Sights.— The  Colosseum.— Panorama  of  London. 
— New  Squares  and  Streets. — A  City  of  Opulence. — 
"Distance  lends  Enchantment  to  the  View." — Zoolo- 


Gardens. — Raising 


5f  a  Water-rat.— Public  Gar- 
41 


LETTER  XX. 

Mr.  W.  C.— Oysters  and  Wickedness.— Public  Statues.— 
There's  Honour  for  You. — Soot  usurping  the  Divinity 
that  should  hedge  a  King.— The  Monument.— Modern 
Eastcheap.  — Goldsmith's  Hall.  —  Postoffice.  —  Penny- 
postage  Boon. — Lion-hunting 44 

LETTER  XXI. 

Palaces. — Twickenham. — Pope's  Grotto. — Among  Things 
that  were. — Strawberry  Hill. — Hampton  Court  Palace. 
—  Cartoons  and  Paintings.  — Cardinal  Wolsey.  —  Mr. 
Charles  Kean. — Monmouth-street. — Foreigners. — Unra- 
zored.—  Cowper. —  Bazars. — Much-offending  Cincinna- 
ti.—The.  English  "Impossible" 46 

LETTER  XXII. 

Washington  and  Jack-the-Giant-Killer— Early  Rising.— 
A  favourite  Precept. — The  late  Duke  of  Sussex. — The 
Lying-in-state.  — The  Crowd.  — Their  Remarks.  — The 
Funeral.— Royalty.— Chronicle  of  Royal  Drivings  and 
Dinings. — Meager  and  unsatisfactory 48 

LETTER  XXIII. 

Slavery.  —  Police  Station-house.  —  Officer.  —  Severe  and 
Stern  to  view. — Irish  Oratory. — Aldermen. — Small  Le- 
gislation. —  Beggars.  —  Hospitals.  —  Exeter-Hall  Orato- 
ry   5° 


2031344 


17 


CONTENTS. 


LETTER  XXIV. 

Behaviour  iu  American  and  English  Theatres.— London 
Audiences  little  Intelligent.  —  Opera. — Its  Absurdity. — 
Heroine  Swanlike  in  her  Death.  —  Injudicious  Ap- 
plause.—Improvement  in  the  Drama.— The  Ballet  — 
A  coarse  Taste.— Singing.— Wild  Beasts.— Private  The- 
atricals  r..?. Page  52 

LETTER  XXV. 

Southampton.— English  Jocularity.— The  next  bestThing 
—Abbeys.— Isle  of  Wight.— Charles  the  First.— Pier 
Dues.— Smuggling.— Portsmouth.— The  Victory.— Nel- 
son.—Jersey  becoming  a  London  Suburb.— American 
and  English  Steamers 55 

LETTER  XXVI. 

The  Duke.— Lablache.  —  Extremes  meet.  — St.  James's 
Park.— Duke  of  York's  Column.— Hyde  Park.— Achil- 
les.—Fame  and  its  Moral.— Kensington  Gardens.— Re- 
gent's Park.  —  "  Dagger  of  Lath."  —  Flute  playing. — 
Coleridge.— Opium  eating.— Mrs.  D wyer 58 

LETTER  XXVII. 

Packing.— Covent  Garden  Market.— The  Unnatural  pre- 
ferred. —  A  Fog.  —  Foundling  Hospital.  —  American 
Vauntingnesa.  —  English  Self-laudation. —  Churches. — 
Cathedral  Service.— Great  Want  of  Churches.—"  Im- 
60 


LETTER  XXVIII. 

Alison's  History  of  Europe.  —  Strange  Misstatement.  — 
Duellers.  —  Farther  Misstatement.  —  Miss  Martineau. — 
History  writing  made  Easy.— Pronunciation.— Newspa- 


LETTER  XXLX. 

An  Englishman  in  Love.— Colleges.— Puseyism.— Luther. 
—  French  Protestants.  — Church  Livings.  —  Preachers. 
—Robert  Owen 65 

LETTER  XXX. 


"Wight"  v.  "White"  Horse 
pendent. — Irish  Re 


English  Journals. — Inde- 
ck-witted. — Lord  Canter- 
ame   Cento 
Party  Politics.— Ire- 
land.— A  Pauper  Funeral. — Income-tax. — Cases  of  Pe 
culiar  Hardship.— Elisha 68 


pendent. — Irish  Reporters  quick-witted. — L< 
bury.  —  Metaphysics  of  Dancing.  —  Mada 
points  a  Moral. — Opera  Uproars. — Party  Pol 


LETTER  XXXI. 


Boundary  Question.  —  Advantages  of  Settlement.  —  A 
Proof  before  Letters.  —  Epsom  and  the  Derby-day.  — 
Vehicular  Chain. — The  Race-ground  —  The  Race. — 
Race  Horses.  — The  Turf.  — Bays  and  Grays.  — Re- 
turn. —  Vulgarism.  —  Police.  —  Magazines  and  Reviews 
Page  70 

LETTER  XXXII. 

Suicide.— Education— Stables  and  Schools.— Bishop  of 
Manchester.  —  Strange  Puzzlement.  —  Indiana.  —  Inge- 
nuity in  Ignorance. — Mr.  Alison. — Four  Frigates  against 
two  Thousand  Ships. — American  BoastfuJness. — Eng- 
lish Inquiries 72 

LETTER  XXXHI. 

Funerals. — Professors  of  Tears. — A  Black  Coachman. — 
Irish  "  Wakes."  —  "  The  Scream  of  the  Morning."  — 
New-England  Town.— Newness.— Mr.  Dickens.— New- 
York.  — "  Uncreditable"  Statement.— Mr.  Guy.— York- 
shire.— Ruin  of  England. — Ruined  Cities  of  America. — 
Chinese  Exhibition.  —  "  Literary  Gentlemen  in  their 
Summer  Costumes" — Penny-a-liners. — China. — A  Fit  of 
"  Abstraction" 75 

LETTER  XXXIV. 

Cries  of  London.  — Sound.  — Aristocracy.  — Gluttony.— 
"Repudiation."— Bank  of  England.  —  Bad  Example 
badly  followed.  — Standing  Army.  —Ireland.  —  United 
States  a  great  Barrack.  —  Military  Despotism.  —  Art- 
Unions.— Prince  Albert.— Sir  Robert  Peel  in  Fetters- 
Houses  in  America 77 

LETTER  XXXV. 

Poverty  of  Street  Nomenclature.  — English  Climate.— 
Fire-flies  and  Moschetoes.  — Fox-hunting.  — Playing  at 
Deer-hunts  —  Animal  Magnetism.—  Slavery.  —  Mrs. 
Trollope. — Ignorance. — Precedent. — Sandwich  Islands 
—Democracy  of  the  Anglo-Indian  Government. ....  79 

LETTER  XXXVI. 

Gaming-houses. — Personal  Character  of  the  Sovereign. — 
Royal  Dinner. — Table  Etiquette. — Temperance  Socie- 
ties.—Modem  Works  —Pyramids.— A  Soiree.— A  Shad- 
ow.—Macaulay's  "  Lays."— Wealth  Worship 82 

LETTER  XXXVH. 

Law.  —  Delays.  —  English  Characteristics.  —  Charity.  — 
Education.--  Unamiability.—  Ruin.—  Foreign  Grievan- 
ces.—Refinement.— Ladies  of  England.— Conclusion  84 


PREFACE. 


FLANDERS  an  English  historian  has  called 
the  battle-field  of  Europe,  while  the  United 
States  of  America  seem  to  be  particularly 
regarded  by  the  English  as  a  chosen  land, 
on  which  author-errants  may  vent  their  hu- 
mours. Nearly  all  these  travelled  writers 
profess  a  wish  to  cultivate  and  improve 
the  good  understanding  which  should  pre- 
vail between  the  child  and  parent  countries, 
and  they  then,  with  some  honourable  ex- 
ceptions, proceed  to  show  (strange  means 
to  such  an  end)  how  rude  and  perverse  is 
the  overgrown  baby  America,  disregardful 
of  parental  admonitions,  and  perseverant 
with  ridiculous  obstinacy  in  thinking, 
speaking,  and  acting  for  herself.  It  pleas- 
es these  travellers  to  declare,  on  their  re- 
turn to  England,  that  they  regard  the  Uni- 
ted States  with  kindly  feelings  and  gay 
good-humour.  It  may  well  be  so  ;  so  much 
of  their  evil-humour  has  been  packed  up, 
forced  into  manuscript  to  appear  in  print, 
that  it  was  exhausted  in  the  process  :  their 
declarations  are  as  the  hum  of  the  insect 
— their  books,  its  sting. 

However  varied  the  pursuits  or  vocations 
of  these  journeyers — soldiers,  sailors,  ba- 
zar-keepers, actresses,  lecturers,  philoso- 
phers, gentlemen  at  large,  or  authors  by 
profession — very  few  present  one  of  the 
attributes  of  Hamlet,  who  tells  us  he  "  lack- 
ed gall :"  they  write  as  if  only  a  course  of 
blisters  could  benefit  the  constitutionjOf 
America— Sangrado's  treatment  was  wiser, 
for  he  did  not  add  irritation  to  nausea. 

He  who  runs,  we  have  proverbial  author- 
ity to  believe,  may  read,  whenever  the 
characters  are  legible  enough;  some  of 
these  gentlemen  have  shown  that  he  who 
runs  may  write,  when  the  theme  is  merely 
the  character  of  America. 


British  travellers,  perhaps,  their  transat- 
lantic voyage  accomplished,  have  a  foreign, 
a  from-home  sort  of  feeling  ;  and  thinking 
of  foreign  parts,  find  the  United  States  like 
a  Greater  Britain,  and  are  dissatisfied  that 
it  is  not  as  their  Britain  ;  the  difference  in 
manners,  pronunciation,  and  phraseology 
they  gravely  and  sagely  censure,  precisely 
as  they  would  provincialisms  in  their  own 
country,  impertinent  departures  from  the 
London  standard ;  but  America,  like  France 
or  Germany,  is  surely  entitled  to  establish 
a  standard  of  her  own. 

Were  Dutch  instead  of  English  the  lan- 
guage of  the  United  States,  the  works  of 
English  travellers  would  be  incalculably 
better — would  display  more  sense  and  less 
sneer  ;  for  another  language  would  recon- 
cile to  these  nearsighted  observers  another 
state  of  things,  while  previous  study  would 
be  necessary.  What  is  necessary  now  T 
Long  suffering  in  sea-sickness  sprightfully 
described,  considerable  railwaying— or,  as 
it  is  sometimes  called,  railing — horror  of 
tobacco,  awe  at  Niagara,  and,  lo !  an  Eng- 
lish work  upon  the  United  States  of  North 
America. 

It  is  hoped  the  following  familiar  letters 
may  show  how  several  of  these  authors 
have  erred ;  and  that  they  will,  moreover, 
be  found  to  present  a  fair,  just,  and  unex- 
aggerated  character  of  the  English  as  they 
are. 

That  the  work  will  produce  any  impres- 
sion upon  the  English  themselves,  the  au- 
thoress has  not  for  a  moment  contempla- 
ted ;  for  when  it  is  told  of  themselves,  they 
are  a  people  singularly  unmoved  by — the 
Truth. 

July,  1843. 


LETTERS 


AN    AMERICAN    LADY. 


LETTER  I. 

Recovery  from  Illness. — Taxes  in  England. — Custom 
house. — Strangeness  a  Foreigner  feels  there. — The 
Thames.— General  Merits  of  Mr.  Dickens.— Particular 
Exception.— American  Notes. 

MRS.  TO  MISS  ,  NEW-YORK. 

London, ,  1843. 

DEAREST  JULIA— How  wearisome  is  a  slow  re- 
covery from  illness  in  the  heart  of  a  mighty  city, 
and  that  when  you  are  widowed  and  alone ; 
how  loudly  do  clattering  carriages  and  countless 
noises  tell  of  boisterous  and  unsympathizing 
health  without,  and  what  a  petty  unit  one  feels 
within  !  Do  you  not  think  it  is  this  sensation  of 
unaided  loneliness  that  makes  so  many  of  our 
sex  (I  may  admit  it  to  you)  feel  or  consider 
spinsterhood  and  wretchedness  inseparable? 
Better  social  penury  than  solitary  enjoyment ; 
better  "  the  poor  creature  small  beer,"  with  the 
flavour  of  a  family  about  it,  than  imperial  Tokay 
sipped  from  an  unmated  glass — "  self-love  and 
social"  in  this  sense  bear  out  the  poet's  axiom, 
and  are,  indeed,  "  the  same." 

My  former  letters  were  so  very  domestic  and 
personal,  that  they  might  have  been  written  from 
Boston  as  well  as  from  London.  I  promised 
when  I  had  leisure — and  my  illness  gave  me 
ample  leisure  to  read,  as  it  does  now  to  write — 
I  promised  to  tell  you  of  London,  and  how  it 
differed  from  New- York  ;  and  of  its  people,  and 
its  ways,  and  its  Boz— the  last  who  has  treated 
of  America,  though  very  far  from  the  least.  I 
prescribe  to  myself  a  course  of  letters  to  you — 
to  home,  with  its  old  familiar  faces,  as  better 
than  the  hieroglyphic  scribblings  of  my  kind  and 
skilful  physician  Dr.  C.  Here  is  dose — I  trust 
not  doze — the  first.  My  stay  in  this  country 
(may  all  good  angels  be  praised  !)  must  be  near- 
ly completed,  for  so  is  the  business  which  could 
not  be  transacted  with  less  than  my  personal 
attendance.  How  important  I  ought  to  feel.  I 
was  transatlantically  wanted  !  Heigho !  But  I 
can  bear  witness  to  "  the  law's  delay,"  as  well 
as  to  its  uncertainty.  I  am  now,  however,  to 
tell  all  I  have  seen  and  thought.  Patiently  and 
perseveringly  have  my  eyes  and  my  memory 
paid  the  many  taxes  imposed  upon  them :  in 
New- York  I  might  claim  some  little  merit  for 
this  ;  but  hardly  in  London,  where  taxes  are  too 
common  to  claim  praise  for  payment,  however 
punctual  or  distressing— where  heaven's  light 
is  apportioned  through  taxed  windows,  and 
earth's  dust  on  taxed  roads — the  blood  royal  and 
the  smuggler  bold  seem  the  only  parties  claim- 
ing any  right  of  exemption. 

I  told  you  previously  how  I  suffered  during 
that  series  of  storms,  our  voyage.  Thank  God, 


we  found  "  the  good  ship  tight  and  free."  How 
I  survived  I  know  not ;  deplorably  indeed  did  I 
"  suffer  a  sea  change,"  but  not  like  Ferdinand's 
father, 

"  Into  something  rich  and  strange ;" 
and  when  I  arrived  at  the  Custom-house,  which 
abuts  upon  the  noble  River  Thames  (to  speak  af- 
ter the  manner  of  Englishmen),  my  sea-sickness 
was  superseded  by  a  nausea  and  disgust  of  a 
perfectly  terrestrial  nature.  Mr.  Dickens  extols 
the  arrangements  of  the  Custom-house  at  Bos- 
ton, and  points  it  out  as  an  example  to  his  own 
country.  Well  he  may !  My  earliest  impres- 
sion upon  touching  land  was  that  civility  and 
the  customs  o<"  England  were  incompatible. 
Such  system  ia  \heir  surliness ;  it  must  have 
cost  great  pains  *o  force  it  to  its  present  perfec- 
tion, and  severe  Grilling  to  maintain  it  there — 
to  prevent  its  degenerating  into  ordinary  human- 
ity. I  complained,  truly  enough,  I  am  sure,  that 
I  was  suffering  from  exhaustion,  and  especially 
needed  one  small  packet  without  delay,  as  it 
contained  medicine.  I  was  told  to  wait.  I  in- 
quired how  long,  and  the  officer  paused  and  told 
me — to  wait ! 

Our  Republican  ears  have  been  somewhat 
startled  to  hear  of  even  Dr.  Johnson  murmur- 
ng  that  he  was  compelled  to  wait  in  the  ante- 
chamber of  a  lord.  If  a  foreigner  visit  England 
to  court  the  great,  to  dance  untiring  attendance 
upon  the  wealthy,  the  Custom-house  affords  him 
fine  probationary  practice. 

I  wonder  what  the  gentlemen  who  sit  at  the 
receipt  of  customs  are  in  their  own  homes.  Do* 
.hey  "wear  sweet  smiles  and  look  erect  on 
heaven,"  and  break  soft  bread  like  other  men ; 
or  do  they  stick  with  official-like  pertinacity  to 
crusts  1  Do  they  marry  out  of  their  own  people  1 
What  are  their  amusements,  their  pursuits,  their 
dreams  1  More  especially,  are  they  humanized 
)'  Sundays  ?  A  history  of  the  domestic  habits 
)f  a  customs'  officer  could  not  but  be  curious. 

Mr.  Mortimer  told  me  they  meant  to  be  civil 
— this  moroseness  was  only  in  their  manner — 

pretty  Fanny's  way."  Coarseness  is  a  bully's 
way,  and  who  regards  his  intentions  1  Neither 
re  the  British  very  ready  to  excuse  what  they 
all  rudeness  among  us,  no  matter  how  it  is 
neant.  If  these  per.ple  really  do  intend  good 
manners,  what  a  contribution  must  they  daily  of- 
er  to  a  pavement  which  I  need  not  particularize  ! 
n  very  few  of  the  public  departments  of  this 
:ountry,  as  far  as  I  have  seen,  can  you  find  per- 
ect  civility — the  nearest  approach  is  but  an  ah- 
ence  of  incivility — an  avoidance  of  actual  rude 
ess — individual  instances  prove  nothing. 

I  have  not  yet  got  over  my  feeling  of  the  small- 


LETTERS    FROM 


ness  of  the  river.  I  have  even  seen  "  old  Father 
Thames  advance  his  reverend  head,"  and  flood 
the  streets  along  his  banks,  and  have  smiled  to 
think  this  was  the  father  of  English  rivers  ! 
Could  these  vaunting  cockneys  see  the  father 
of  American  rivers,  what  a  puny  offspring  would 
their  Thames  appear — a  mere  boy-river — a  thing 
for  painted  barges  and  tiny  steamers  and  show- 
bridges,  having  the  honours  of  a  tide  and  a  Lord- 
mayor's  conservancy  some  few  miles  above 
London,  and  widening  to  a  respectable  water- 
iness  only  as  it  nears  the  sea.  You  have  often 
accused  me  of  a  grievous  want  of  nationality. 
Do  I  not  give  you  a  proper  specimen  here  how 
"  we  Americans"  can  vaunt — sometimes  ! 

Like  you,  dear  Julia,  I  was  all  impatience  to 
peruse  the  work  of  the  most  popular  of  English 
writers  on  America.  It  was  not  difficult  to 
foretel  that  the  publicity  of  his  movements — the 
newspaper  proclamations  that  Mr.  Dickens  hon- 
oured the  poor  distant  republic  with  his  presence 
—must  have  prevented  his  gazing  through  an'  But  enough  of  "Mr  Dickens  for  the  present.  I 


is  diffuse  upon  prisons  and  madhouses,  for  they 
were  immediately  within  his  ken  ;  brief  when 
he  tells  of  senates,  laws,  religions,  literature,  or 
science  ;  things  that  have  prospective  influences, 
and  are  not  merely  of  the  moment.  He  is  at 
home  among  the  vulgarisms  and  provincialisms 
we  have  derived,  almost  entirely,  from  the  old 
country  ;  he  is  not  at  home  in  our  colleges  and 
schools.  He  says  little  upon  great  things,  and 
much  upon  little  things  ;  looks  not  through  parts 
to  the  whole,  but  regards  trifling  parts  for  their 
own  trifling  sake.  He  notices  the  small  rust- 
spots  on  the  bright  steel,  but  says  little  of  the 
excellence — the  temper  of  the  blade.  So  com- 
pletely is  this  the  case,  that  one  might  apply  to 
him  a  similitude  of  Goldsmith,  and  instead  of 
"  an  eagle,"  speak  of  a  lion  "  catching  flies" — 
some  of  them  may  prove  moschetoes.  He  ought 
most  assuredly  to  have  published  his  work  as  by 
Samuel  Weller,  Jun.— it  would  then  have  been 
admirably  in  keeping. 


unmisted  eye-glass.     I  hope  it  is  not  unfair  t 
presume  that  he  may  aid  his  vision  by  artificial 
means,  for  as  most  of  his  young  countrymen 

jt  he? 


really  must  methodise  the  plan  of  my  letters, 
and  let  you  see  I  write  of  London  as  well  as 
from  it.  Some  one  has  applied  a  line  of  Pope 
to  an  ingenious  piece  of  vegetable  intricacy  at 


are,  or  affect  to  be  nearsighted,  why 

"  Assume  a  virtue  if  you  have  it  not,"  fcid  the 

hapless  prince  who  was  "  wise  in  vain ;"  and  to  I  out  apian"     I  think  the  line  is  very  applicable 

be  nearsighted  in  their  views  must  be  esteem-  ]  to  the  Modern  Babylon,  and  I  must  think  of  it, 


Hampton  Court,  "  a  mighty  maze,  but  not  with- 


ed  a  virtue  among  Englishmen,  or  why  should 
so  many  of  the  young  and  the  healthy  refuse  to 
look  at  things  with  their  own  eyes  ? 

The  Americans  were  prepared  for  Mr.  Dickens, 
and  society  was  under  some  restraint ;  it  could 
not  be  otherwise.  What  would  be  the  behaviour 
of  any  circle  in  any  part  of  the  three  kingdoms 
(why  don't  they  call  them  queendoms  now  ?)  if 
they  were  avized  that  a  chiel  was 

'•  Amang  them  takin'  nous, 
And  faith,  he'd  prent  it," 

and  nates,  too,  for  general  circulation  ?  Keener 
optics  than  even  those  of  Boz  would  be  futile  to 
discern  the  reality  through  the  haze  of  make- 
believe. 

Do  not  suppose  that  I  am  slow  to  acknowl- 
edge the  great  merits  of  Boz— the  lion  par  excel- 
lence of  his  day.  I  have  not  to  be  informed  of 
his  originality — of  his  opening  and  working  a 
new  vein  in  his  land's  literature.  One  feels  bet- 
ter after  reading  his  books — better  after  the 
humour  of  his  Wellers  —  the  amenity  of  his 
Pickwick  (how  he  ripens  from  an  essayist  upon 
tittlebats  into  the  kindly  gentleman) ;  one's  heart 
warms  to  poor  Oliver  Twist ;  one's  indignation 
rises  against  Ralph  Nickleby ;  one's  disgust  at 
the  Squeerses,  and  one's  gorge  at  Pecksniff. 
But  (these  buts  !)  if  he  be  creative  as  a  novelist, 
he  is  most  meager  as  a  traveller  ;  our  country 
was  beyond  his  powers,  and,  indeed,  is  beyond  | 
the  four  months'  power  of  any  man.  "  In 
America,"  says  Dr.  Johnson— truly,  I  doubt  not, 
for  it  was  in  1762— "there  is  little  to  be  ob- 
served except  natural  curiosities."  Very  oppo- 
site seems  to  be  Mr.  Dickens's  conclusion,  for  of 
the  great  face  of  nature  he  says  hardly  anything. 

The  noblest  rivers  in  the  world  rolled  for  him  j  Paris  have  graduated  in  a  college  of  good  taste, 
unregarded  by,  or  at  least  unparagraphed.    fn  j  I  do  not  scruple  to  assert  that  in  the  French 

fashions  we  are  in  advance  of  the  ladies  of  Lon- 
don.    I  do  not  know  whether  this  be  or  be  not 


and  write  more  "  by  the  card"  and  the  plan,  and 
less  after  the  manner  of  the  maze  ;  but  in  truth, 
I  know  not  where  to  begin  ;  I  am  distracted  just 
as  strangers  are  at  the  very-much-omnibused 
White  Horse  Cellar  (I  can  see  it  from  my  win- 
dows in  Piccadilly)  by  the  conflicting  shouts  of 
the  coachmen  and  conductors  and  amateur-con- 
ductors of  the  host  of  vehicles — "  Richmond, 
sir  !"  "  Kew,  ma'am  ?"  "  Hammersmith  ?" 
"Brentford?"  "Twit'nam?"  "Bow?"  "Mile- 
end?"  "City,  City?"  "Bank,  Bank,  Bank?" 
Of  which  of  these  places  or  themes  shall  I  epis- 
tolise  first  ?  Well,  they  are  all  before  me  where 
to  choose.  Adieu  for  a  while.  What  untiring 
fingers  and  unsleeping  eyes  the  young  lady  jour- 
nalists of  Richardson  or  Miss  Burney  must  have 
had  !  I  envy  them,  and  wish  I  could  be  with 
you  again  without  being  rocked  "  in  cradle  of 
the  rude  imperious  surge"  of  that  great,  great 
sea.  Ever,  dearest  Julia,  etc.,  etc. 


LETTER  II. 

French  Fashions  in  New-York  and  London. — Dress  of 
Queen  Victoria.— Beauty  of  English  and  American  La- 
dies.— Well-preserved  Beauty  in  England.— Opera-bal- 
lets nnd  Red-Indian  Dances. — Regent-strWt. — Kudenesa 
to  Ladies.  —  Contrast  to  American  Manners.  —  Solar 
Notes. 

London, ,  1843. 

,  MY  DEAREST  JULIA — Madame  D.  has  just  sent 
hom£  my  new  bonnet — it  is  perfection.  Depend 
upon  it,  the  French  are  the  only  people  who 
thoroughly  understand  the  science  of  dress,  that 
is,  ladies'  dress,  and  science  as  distinguished 
from  quackery  ;  the  leaders  of  the  modes  in 


the  Mississippi  he  beholds  but  a  muddy  stream 
flowing  through  a  woody  wilderness  ;  his  mind's 
eye  catches  no  prescient  glimpse  of  the  cities 
that  in  the  fulness  of  time  will  adorn  its  banks  ; 


owing  to  a  certain  class  here  setting  or  attempt 
ing  to  set  a  fashion  of  their  own  (fair  usurpers 


he  alludes  not  to  the  "  all  hail,  hereafter !"    He  !  in  the  domains  of  lace,  riband,  and  satin),  but  I 


AN   AMERICAN   LADY. 


am  satisfied  it  is  so.  I  have  heard  English  la- 
-dies,  and  not  unfrequently,  pronounce  their  fair 
young  queen's  shawl  or  bonnet  unfashionable; 
so  you  see  fashion  is  not  strictly  monarchical, 
nor  does  she  play  such  fantastic  tricks  in  Queen 
Victoria's  court  as  elsewhere.  I  have  seen  her 
majesty  realize  the  description  of  a  fair  lady  of 
old, 

"  And  then  her  dress— what  beautiful  simplicity 

Draperied  her  form  with  curious  felicity !" 
You  inquire  if  the  British  ladies  are  prettier  than 
those  in  a  younger  world,  and  truly,  Miss  Julia, 
it  is  a  very  comprehensive  question.  Into  how 
many  heads  ought  I  to  divide  it  ]  How  much 
paper,  postage,  and  time,  ought  to  be  expended 
in  a  due  response  1  It  requires  no  eye-glass  to 
perceive  that  many,  very  many,  beautiful  women 
brighten  the  circles  of  London  society ;  but — 
but— how  shall  I  tell  if?  I  will  shelter  myself, 
I  think,  under  a  noun  of  number ;  but — a  host 
of  travellers  concur  in  paying  homage  to  the 
superiority  of  the  female  loveliness  of  America. 
Is  it  for  me  to  gainsay  them  all  1  Do  you  New- 
York  ladies  feel  at  all  propitiated  that  Boz  (a 
Tery  handsome  man  himself)  describes  you  as 
"  singularly  beautiful?"  and  so  you  are.  Neither 
does.  Boz  aver,  as  others  (rude  critics  that  they 
are!)  have  done  before  him,  that  American 
beauty  soon  fades. 

"If  all  that's  bright  must  fade, 
The  brightest  still  the  fleetest," 

you,  my  love,  will  look  quite  old  at  twenty-five. 
I  do  not  think  any  particular  style  of  beauty  pre- 
dominates here  more  than  with  us  :  blondes  and 
brunettes  are  not  unfrequently  seen  in  the  same 
family,  just  as  we  had  different-tinted  roses  on 
the  same  stem  in  that  dear  garden  by  the  Hud- 
son. I  know  two  sisters  who  both  wear  the 
hair  a  la  reine,  but  with  this  difference  :  that  the 
fair  brow  of  one  is  shaded  with  auburn,  the  other 
with  raven,  both  of  the  softest,  silkiest  texture. 
The  English  ladies  certainly  resemble  some 
kinds  of  old  lace — they  wear  well — passing  well. 
Very  beautiful  are  very  many  ladies  of — now 
imagine  any  envious  term  of  years  you  think 
should,  or  rather  will,  fling  beauty  into  the  sere 
and  yellow  leaf,  into  the  gray  and  falling  hair. 
We  need  not  inquire  what  sums  are  paid  to  the 
ingenious  artists  (really  arf-ists)  who  supply  the 
complexional  roses  of  both  York  and  Lancaster  ; 
we  need  not  more  than  allude  to  closetings  with 
modistes;  and  as  to  a  perruquier — oh,  name  not 
his  name.  Let  us  rest  satisfied  with  the  pleas- 
ing effect,  nor  pry  too  closely  into  the  cause — 
"  'Twere  to  consider  too  curiously  to  consider  thus." 

The  most  remarkable  display  of  beauty  is  per- 
haps to  be  seen  at  the  Opera  House,  Her  Majes- 
ty's Theatre ;  it  is  really  tiered  with  loveliness, 
with  unadorned  as  well  as  jewelled  beauty.  The 
queen,  who  is  said  to  be  a  proficient  in  music,  as 
well  as  to  be  very  fond  of  it,  frequently  attends. 
I  may  tell  you  afterward  of  operas  and  theatres, 
but  I  must  make  one  remark  here  ;  that  my  first 
beholding  a  ballet  convinced  me  how  extremes 
meet.  The  dances  of  our  red  Indians,  the  de- 
light of  savage  man,  saving  that  their  dances  are 
always  modest,  are  not  far  removed  from  the 
wild  graces,  the  flexibility  of  limb  and  gesture 
of  the  Ellslers  and  the  Ceritos  ;  and  gentlemen 
and  old  gentlemen,  quoted  as  among  the  most 
civilized,  nay,  polished,  of  Europe's  sons,  regard 


these  agile  danseusca  as  creatures  of  rare  merit. 
It  may  be  that  grace  is  in  all  their  steps ;  but 
commend  me  to  the  untaught  motion  of  the  child 
of  the  forest.  Some  one  said  of  some  great 
orator  (Demosthenes,  was  it  not  ?),  that  his 
speeches  smelt  of  the  lamp  ;  and  so,  literally  and 
figuratively,  do  the  movements  of  these  tolera- 
bly well  paid  operatic  professors. 

The  Opera  House  occupies  the  corner  of  the 
Haymarket  and  Pall  Mall:  it  is  a  very  large, 
handsome  structure,  and  shopped  in  its  colon- 
nades and  arcades.  A  little  beyond  the  top  of 
the  Haymarket  (where  every  thing  is  sold  but  hay) 
is  Regent-street,  a  long,  spacious,  and  rather 
winding  street,  the  architectural  boast  of  West- 
ern London  ;  very  fine  in  parts,  and  very  start- 
ling too,  but  all  stucco,  stucco,  stucco  !  What  a 
city  would  London  have  been,  had  it  been  neigh- 
boured by  quarries  of  freestone  and  marble.  A 
little  higher  than  the  part  where  Piccadilly  in- 
tersects it,  commences  the  Quadrant  of  Regent- 
street — this  is  a  covered  colonnade  —  "from 
storms  a  shelter,  and  from  heat  a  shade ;"  the 
supporting  pillars  are  placed  at  regular  intervals 
at  the  edge  of  a  wide  trottoir ;  the  effect  is  the 
same  as  that  produced  by  the  successive  awn- 
ngs  in  Broadway  ;  the  appearance  much  finer. 
The  architecture  of  Regent-street  is  not  illiber- 
ally confined  to  any  style  or  sect.  Mr.  Nash, 
the  architect,  was  no  professional  bigot ;  his  ideal 
of  excellence  was  the  taste  of  George  the  Fourth, 
and  he  might  have  had  a  far  worse  guide. 

"  Never  once,"  says  Mr.  Dickens  of  America, 
"  did  I  see  a  woman  exposed  to  the  slightest 
act  of  rudeness,  incivility,  or  even  inattention." 
I  cannot  echo  this  praise  of  England.  Some 
one  has  said  that  half  the  mistakes  in  the  world 
arise  from  "  taking  for  granted."  I  made  the 
mistake  of  taking  for  granted  that  forbearance, 
to  say  the  least,  where  ladies  were  concerned, 
would  be  as  common  in  the  streets  of  London 
as  in  any  American  city.  I  was  soon  unde- 
ceived ;  for  when  I  first  walked  along  Regent- 
street,  and  some  of  the  streets  adjoining  it,  I 
was  annoyed  beyond  a  pen's  telling,  by  glance 
after  glance  poked  under  my  bonnet.  I  felt 
•earied,  worried,  and  afraid — that  vague  kind 
of  fear  so  wretchedly  depressing — a  lady  does 
not  know  what  it  is  exactly  she  has  to  appre- 
hend, and  so  dreads  everything.  When  after- 
ward I  complained,  Mr.  Mortimer  accounted  for 
the  persecution  I  suffered  by  saying  these  in- 
quisitive persons  were  not  gentlemen — gentle- 
men must  be  scarce  in  those  parts,  then.  This 
happened,  too,  when  I  was  new  to  London  and  its 
rudeness,  and  when  my  principal  feeling  in  the 
mighty  maze  was  bewilderment — a  dependance 
upon  others,  and  even  upon  strangers,  sufficient- 
ly galling. 

It  was  long  before  I  liked  to  venture  abroad, 
even  a  street  or  two  off,  unescorted,  and  when 
I  had  hired  by  the  month  a  plain  two-horse 
chariot  and  coachman  (plain  also),  which  here 
they  call,  and  not  inaptly,  a  job,  and  was  con- 
veyed any  distance,  I  felt  an  ignorance  of  my 
whereabout  that  would  have  done  honour  to  an 
infant ;  "  east  or  west,  where'er  I  turned,"  were 
the  endless  streets,  and  squares,  and  places,  and 
rows,  and  terraces  !  I  did  at  last  obtain  a  toler- 
able knowledge  of  localities  ,  but  really  my  ig- 
norance for  a  month  or  two  was  as  dense  as 
that  of  Mr.  Dickens  of  the  Western  Statet  he 


LETTERS    FROM 


was  about  to  visit.  "  He  looked"  (unsophisti 
cated  Boz)  "for  two  evenings  at  the  setting 
sun,"  but  apparently  derived  no  ray  of  intelli- 
gence from  the  gorgeous  luminary  ;  for  he — and 
I  fear  he  is  ungallant  enough  to  include  Mrs. 
Dickens— he,  or  rather  "  we,  had  as  well  de- 
fined an  idea  of  the  country  before  us  as  if  we 
had  been  going  to  travel  into  the  very  centre  of 
that  planet."  Geographical  knowledge  must  be 
at  a  low  ebb  in  England,  when  an  accomplished 
author  makes  such  an  admission  ;  perhaps  books 
or  maps  are  scarce,  or  dear.  I  honour  Mr. 
Dickens  for  his  candour,  and  trust  if  ever  he 
should  travel  in  that  "  planet,"  as  he  somewhat 
curiously  calls  the  sun  of  our  system,  his  Solar 
will  be  better  than  his  American  notes.  His 
countrymen  already  possess  Solar  oil — I  see  it 
announced  in  some  of  the  shop  windows — and 
this  is  perhaps  the  first  step  to  Solar  intercourse, 
the  breaking  ground  sun-ward.  I  must  inquire 
if  they  import  this  oil  direct,  or  by  way  of  Mer- 
cury and  Venus.  The  last  word  brings  your 
image  so  sweetly  before  me,  that  I  will  let  my 
thoughts  flee  across  the  Atlantic,  and  give  my 
fingers  pause.  Ever,  etc. 


LETTER  III. 

Executions.  — New-York  and  London.  — Daniel  Good.— 
Executions  popular  with  the  Many  in  England. 

London, ,  1843. 

MY  DEAREST  JULIA  —  A  hundred  thousand 
thanks  for  your  welcome  letter.  How  hallowed 
is  even  domestic  chit-chat  when  affection  wafts 
it  a  few  thousand  miles  !  Trifles  passing  through 
the  ordeal  of  a  transatlantic  post  are  never  light 
as  air:  they  are  aggrandized;  they  are  —  But 
don't  let  me  grow  sententious. 

And  so  that  unhappy  man,  who  some  eleven 
years  ago  was  one  of  our  uncle  A's  clerks,  has 
forfeited  his  life  to  his  country's  laws.  Alas  ! 
alas  !  and  yet  I  do  not  marvel ;  for  no  meanness 
is  too  little,  no  crime  too  enormous  for  a  reso- 
lute miser  to  be  guilty  of  when  lucre  lures  him 
on  ;  his  heart  seems  cased  in  triple  gold,  and  the 
stings  of  conscience  cannot  penetrate  through 
the  armour  of  Mammon ;  but  dear  me,  how- 
sententious  again — I  think  it  must  be  that  the 
subject  makes  one  write  in  a  manner  different 
from  one's  ordinary  way. 

Your  account  reminds  me  of  an  execution 
here,  one  morning  last  summer.  I  left  my  bed 
at  an  early  hour,  for  pain  and  lassitude  made 
me  long  for  change,  merely  because  it  was 
change.  When  I  looked  out  into  the  street,  I 
saw  no  inconsiderable  number  of  persons  hast- 
ening eastward.  I  rang  to  inquire  the  reason 
of  this  unwonted  commotion  at  such  an  hour. 
It  was  some  time  before  my  bell  was  answered, 
"  Please,  ma'am,"  at  last  said  the  eager  hand- 
maiden, "  Good's  a-going  to  be  hanged." 

And  men — ay,  Julia,  and  women  too,  crowded 
to  the  sight  until  the  choked-up  street  refused 
admittance  to  thousands.  They  boast  of  their 
civilization — these  Englishmen — and  the  most 
attractive  spectacle  to  the  mass  is  a  felon's 
death  !  Justice  in  England  should  have  a  hal- 
ter added  to  her  effigy  :  an  execution  here  is 
a  pageant,  a  show,  a  cheap  and  popular  excite- 
ment— genuine  agony,  to  be  enjoyed  gratuitously 
— real  convulsions.  Oh  !  hanging's  your  effect- 
ive, your  only  tragedy. 


In  twenty  years  or  less,  I  do  believe  our 
American  custom  in  inflicting  the  dreadful  pen- 
alty of  death  will  prevail  in  England,  that  is,  if 
capital  punishment  be  not  altogether  abolished. 
The  criminal  here  hardens  his  heart  for  the  last 
part  he  has  to  perform  in  public.  Numbers,  of 
whose  guilt  there  could  be  no  doubt,  have  died 
asseverating  their  innocence.  Good  did.  And 
why  *  Because  every  one  of  these  men  (callous 
as  they  might  be)  shrank  from  facing  the  crowd 
as  a  murderer  confessed,  and  hoped  for  their 
sympathy  if  he  perseveringly  declared  his  inno- 
cence ;  and  he  did  so  declare  it,  and  his  last 
breath  was — a  lie  ! 

The  sufferer  knows  that  he  has  been  the  dar- 
ling topic  of  a  great  portion  of  the  public  press 
for  many  days.  The  misdeeds  of  his  whole  life 
have  been  canvassed,  and  ladies  have  visited 
him  in  his  condemned  cell ;  some  to  present  him 
flowers,  some  to  pray  with  him,  some  to  procure 
his  autograph  for  an  album,  or,  if  he  cannot  write, 
an  inky  mark  from  the  hand  that  perpetrated  a 
murder,  or  a  lock  from  the  head  that  planned  it ; 
and  he  has  listened,  or  struggled  to  listen,  to  a 
last  sermon  in  the  prison  chapel;  and  magis- 
trates' ladies  and  privileged  visiters  have  knelt 
with  him  to  hear  the  blessed  Word  of  the  ever- 
living  God,  and  gaze  upon  the  white  lips  on 
which  would  soon  be  the  clamminess  of  death. 
Despite  his  fears,  he  feels  that  he  is  the  hero  of 
the  scene ;  that  he  divides  these  strangers'  re- 
gards with  the  service  of  the  Church,  and  he 
studies  less  to  prepare  to  die  than  to  encounter 
their  curious  and  searching  eyes. 

I  do  not  mean  to  say  that  this  individual  case 
has  been  characterized  by  all  these  things.  I 
tell  you  what  has  been,  and  what  it  is  to  be 
hoped  may  never  be  again.  In  New- York, 
where  the  criminal  suffers  within  the  walls  of 
the  prison,  the  law  enjoining  the  presence  of  a 
certain  number  of  citizens  and  official  characters, 
the  public  are  shut  out ;  but  through  the  very 
heart  of  the  city  goes  the  rumour  that  the  law 
has  taken  life  as  a  punishment  for  crime.  The 
most  hardened  offender  feels  awed— appalled ; 
he  may  pause  in  his  mad  career,  for  his  imagi- 
nation pictures  the  death-scene  in  colours  that 
terrify  his  inmost  soul — fear  is  sublime  in  its 
exaggerations. 

JJut  HERE,  he  sees  it !  The  hooting  or  sym- 
pathetic rabble  banish  reflection.  The  struggle 
to  obtain  a  good  place  calls  forth  his  bodily  ener- 
gies ;  he  has  something  to  contend  and  clamour 
for ;  and  he  hears  ribald  jokes  at  the  very  gal- 
lows' foot — and  what  a  fine  thing  it  is  to  die 
hard,  and  how  Newgate  Calendars — but,  lo !  the 
victim.  All  eyes  are  directed  towards  him. 
The  sight  of  his  fellows  prevents  his  thoughts 
dwelling  on  his  God.  He  espies  comrades  in 
the  crowd,  and  remembers  their  combined,  skil- 
ful, and  successful  rapine  in  other  days,  and 
their  unholy  orgies  afterward  ;  his  lips  mechani- 
cally repeat  words  of  prayer,  and  his  heart  is  in 
past  scenes  of  low  delight — and  so  he  dies. 

The  body  hangs  a  certain  time,  and  women 
say  "how  shocking,"  and  men  "how  queer"  he 
looks;  and  boys  shout  out,  "Did  you  everl" 

What  a  Guy  !"  "  Does  his  mother  know  he's 
out?"  and  casts  are  taken  from  his  scull,  and 
liis  carcass  is  buried  within  the  prison  walls, 
and  his  deeds  recorded  in  cheap  pamphlets  for 
the  edification  of  ingenuous  youth. 


AN   AMERICAN   LADY.  9 

This  man — Daniel  Good,  a  gentleman's  ser- 1  sider  this  repulsivenesa  a  becoming,  and  even 
vant— murdered  a  woman,  concealed  the  body,  national  attribute— a  sort  of  birthright.  Esau's 
which  he  had  dismembered,  in  his  master's  j  example  has  not  been  followed  ;  this  personal 


stable,  and  was  proceeding  to  burn  it  piecemeal 
when  the  discovery  took  place.  If  any  master- 
fiend  in  this  country  strikes  out  originality  of 
crime,  it  is  soon  imitated.  One  Greenacre  was 
the  first  dismemberer,  at  least  in  men's  memo- 


property  is  rarely  disposed  of,  but  is  handed, 
down  intact  from  father  to  son.  The  English 
appear  to  regard  the  "pctzts  soins,"  the  attention 
ladies  are  taught  to  expect  in  society  as  a  tax 
upon  their  time  and  speech,  and  like  a  tax  they 


.  ----  f 

ries,  and  Good  was  his  disciple.     Burk  and  Hare  |  pay  it—  that  is,  grudgingly,  or  not  at  all  if  they 
(villains  unparalleled),  some  years  ago  in  Edin-  j  can  help  it.     When  do  you  see  gratuitous  polite- 
burgh,  killed  helpless  and  homeless  wretches  to  |  ness  extended  to  age  —  when  tu  poverty  1 
sell  their  bodies  for  dissection  to  the  surgeon*  ;  I      Some  time  ago  I  promised  to  accompany  Mr. 
and  a  man  called  Bishop,  with  two  other  ruffians,  !  and  Mrs.  Griffiths  to  Windsor  ;  an  accident  pre- 


introduced  the  crime  into  London  —  worse  than 
horrible  ! 

Until  the  reign  of  the  present  sovereign,  and 
(I  believe)  her  two  predecessors,  executions 
were  so  common  throughout  the  land,  that  the 
English  code  was  stigmatized  as  the  bloodiest 
in  Europe.  Do  not  think  this  hanging  spectacle 
may  be  over-coloured.  I  was  told  the  particu- 
lars by  English  gentlemen,  by  one  especially 
who  is  a  most  acute  observer,  and  has  an  un- 
dying curiosity  to  see  everything  or  anything. 
1  believe  the  case  is  rather  understated  than 
otherwise. 

The  criminal  trials  here,  all  admit,  present 
the  perfection  of  justice  —  cool,  impartial,  yet 
indulgent.  In  petty  offences  police-magistrates 
are  said  generally  to  take  into  consideration  the 
station  in  life  of  the  accused.  That  is  a  grave 
misdemeanor  and  an  imprisonment  in  the  pool- 
man,  which  is  a  frolic  and  a  fine  in  the  lordling  ; 
but  'tis  the  old  story  — 

That  in  the  captain's  but  a  choleric  word 

Which  in  the  soldier  is  flat  blasphemy. 

And  now  let  me  answer  the  inquiries  in  your 


letters. 


Ever,  etc. 


LETTER  IV. 

lishand  American  Characteristics. — First  and  second- 
Railway  Carriages.  —  Stage-coaches.  —  Might  be 
useful  as  Places  of  Punishment. — Great  Western  Rail- 
way.—Windsor  Castle. 

London, ,  1843. 

MY  DEAREST  JULIA — I  dare  say  you  would 
be  surprised  to  learn — I  was— that  "the  most 
obliging,  considerate,  and  gentlemanly  person 
Mr.  Dickens  ever  had  to  deal  with"  (strong  lan- 
guage) was  an  innkeeper  at  Harrisburg.  I  pre- 
tend not  to  be  a  judge  of  what  men  consider 
gentlemanly  bearing  in  their  intercourse  one 
with  another,  but  I  know  the  Americans  are 
accused  of  being  deficient  in  that  respect.  Sooth 
to  say,  I  care  so  little  about  the  matter,  that  I 
will  not  enter  upon  this  vexed  question.  Most 
assuredly  no  one  can  deny  the  deference,  the 
tone  of  good  manners  tmcards  our  sex,  not  only 
prevalent,  but  universal  in  America. 

I  am  told  the  English  mean  (more  good  inten- 
tions— more  masses  of  pavement)  to  testify  as 
respectful  a  regard  as  the  Americans ;  if  it  be 
so,  certainly  their  way  of  doing  it  is  full  of  odd- 
ness  and  originality.  Better  the  Yankee  inquis- 
itiveness,  of  which  travellers  complain,  than 
utter  and  contemptuous  silence  ;  better  "  an 
imbodied  inquiry,"  an  animated  note  of  interro- 
gation with  the  twist  in  the  mind,  than  the  surly 
masculine  selfishness  I  have  so  often  met  with 
here.  I  am  inclined  to  think  Englishmen  con- 
B 


vented  Mr.  u.  accompanying  us,  and  we  ven- 
tured to  go  without  him.  We  travelled  by  the 
Great  Western  Railway  (a  line  from  London  to 
Bristol),  one  of  the  stations  of  which  is  Slough, 
a  mile  or  two  from  Windsor.  Ladies  and  gen- 
tlemen perforce  occupy  the  same  carriages  ;  nor 
are  the  best  seats,  or  any  seats,  reserved  for  the 
more  delicate  sex.  On  the  contrary,  a  pleasure- 
tourist  to  Windsor,  which  is  only  one  or  two 
and  twenty  miles  from  London,  will  as  soon  as 
possible  appropriate  a  seat  which  pleases  him, 
put  on  it  a  rough,  coarse  outercoat  (tit  emblem  !), 
to  intimate  his  right  of  possession,  and  esteem 
himself  ill-used  if  requested  to  yield  it  to  a  lady. 
Should  you  arrive  (as  was  our  case)  only  a 
minute  or  two  before  the  time  of  starting,  you 
must  climb  and  push  your  way  to  your  place 
over  gentlemen's  knees  as  well  as  you  can,  and 
sit  down,  feeling  you  are  one  crimson,  and  with 
an  idle  hope  that  your  fellow-passengers'  impu- 
dent starings  may  not  be  continued  the  whole 
way. 

This  was  in  the  best  and  most  expensive  car- 
riage— the  first  class  one ;  the  second  class  is 
uncushioned  and  unpartitioned,  and  studiously 
uncomfortable,  to  compel  travellers,  I  suppose — 
and  railways  are  now  a  monopoly — to  use  the 
first  and  better  remunerating  class.  These 
second-class  carriages  are  even  open  at  the 
sides,  and  every  passenger,  male  or  female,  ro- 
bust or  sickly,  is  exposed  to  the  inclemency  of 
the  weather;  and  how  the  wind  does  rush, 
through  a  railway-carriage,  as  if  angry  at  the  al- 
most windlike  rapidity  with  which  man,  when 
steam  is  his  ally,  can  dart  along  the  earth !  If 
those  carriages  had  been  known  to  ancient 
Rome,  they  would  have  been  dedicated  to  ^Bo- 
lus, for  they  are  sacred  to  all  the  winds  of 
heaven.  An  English  stage-coach,  with  its  splen- 
did appointments,  its  fleet  horses,  its  rubicund 
coachman  and  superfluous  "guard,"  must  be  a 
most  wretched  way  of  travelling ;  I  mean  for 
those  who  travel  on  its  hard,  uncovered,  unpro- 
tected top.  I  wonder  culprits  were  never  taken 
a  wet  wintry  journey  of  two  or  three  hundred 
miles  as  a  punishment — transportation  in  a  small 
way.  Our  own  stage  coaches  swinging  over  the 
mountains  and  corduroy  roads,  with  their  "  nine 
inside,"  are  infinitely  preferable  in  point  of  com- 
fort to  "that  bad  eminence,"  the  top  of  an  Eng- 
lish stage-coach ;  at  any  rate,  when  the  quick- 
silver lurks  about  the  freezing  point.  A  French. 
Diligence  is  greatly  superior.  As  only  the  poor- 
er classes  are  subjected  to  those  annoyances  in 
England,  it  is  considered  a  thing  of  no  moment ; 
very  well  as  it  is  ;  otherwise  it  would  soon  be 
remedied.  No  smoking  is  allowed  in  any  of  the 
carriages — there  are  no  feathery  showers,  suck 
as  Boz  tells  of.  The  English  rarely  open  their 


10 


LETTERS  FROM 


•mouths  for  any  purpose  but  to  eat  and  drink 
while  they  travel.  I  found  this  the  case,  not 
only  in  this  short  trip,  but  in  my  journey  to  the 
North,  and  elsewhere  ;  they  are  as  fond  of  taci- 
turnity as  the  Americans  are  of  tobacco  ;  and, 
for  my  single  self,  I  cannot  see  the  good  of 
-either.  Many  an  American  will  sit  "  chewing 
the  cud  of  sweet  and  bitter  fancy"  with  his 
•weed,  but  he  never  forgets  the  attentions  due  to 
the  other  sex ;  while  an  Englishman  sits  "  wrap- 
ped in  dismal  thinkings,"  forgetful  or  neglectful 
of  everything  but  himself. 
"  And  with  each  breath  he  draws,  he  seems  t'  inhale 
Gloom  thrice  distill 'd;" 

tut  he  dispenses  with  the  potent  weed.  I  care 
not  to  dwell  upon  this  subject ;  but  it  really  ap- 
j  pears  that  the  main  discovery  which  clever  men 
j  have  crossed  the  Atlantic  to  make,  and  which 
!  ladies  have  carefully  recorded  in  their  diaries, 
i  Is,  that  the  Americans — I  must  use  the  vernacu- 
\  lar — spit.  Were  I  asked  a  national  character- 
Vjstic  of  Englishmen,  I  should  say  they — sulk. 

The  railway  is  a  splendid  achievement,  per- 
haps as  faultless  as  any  railway  yet  in  exist- 
ence. Several  omnibuses  were  waiting  at 
Slough  to  convey  the  railway  deposite  to  Wind- 
sor ;  there  was  a  rush  to  secure  places ;  we  did 
not  court  a  rude  crush,  so  held  back,  and  every 
place  was  filled  (young  men  principally),  and 
we  two  unhappy  ladies  were  left  behind,  hav- 
ing the  option  to  walk  or  wait ;  so  we  did  walk. 

A  short  distance  from  Eton,  which  adjoins 
Windsor,  the  Thames  dividing  them,  we  met  a 
very  sedate-looking  sergeant  in  some  horse  regi- 
ment ;  Mrs.  Griffiths  ventured  to  ask  him  if  he 
could  point  out  to  us  Runnymede  ;  he  answered 
•with  perfect  civility,  and  pleaded  profound  igno- 
rance. We  next  accosted  a  young  lady  with  a 
pretty  and  really  intelligent-looking  face,  under  a 
very  pretty  bonnet ;  she  was  esquired  by  a  smart 
youth,  apparently  all  vanity  and  watch  chains, 
and  evidently  the  lady's  suiter— he  was  too  at- 
tentive to  be  anything  else— both  smilingly  as- 
sured us  (hat  some  one  had  been  hoaxing  us,  or 
the  young  gentleman,  who  was  a  scholar,  the 
damsel  blushingly  said,  must  have  known  !  We 
abandoned  the  inquiry  in  despair,  and  might 
have  been  induced  to  consider  Magna  Charta  a 
romance  or  a  dead  letter,  or  I  know  not  what, 
had  we  not  actually  seen  the  Great  Charter  in 
the  British  Museum,  and  had  not  the  locality  of 
Runnymede'been  afterward  pointed  out  to  us 
from  the  top  of  the  Round  Tower  at  Windsor. 
I  never  had  to  inquire  more  than  once  in  the 
United  States  for  any  spot  hallowed  by  a  glori- 
ous deed.  But  Windsor  Castle — it  is  a  fitting 
residence  for  the  great  head  of  a  great  people. 
I  cannot  write  architecturally ;  and  if  I  could,  I 
suppose  you,  Julia,  are  like  other  young  ladies— 
you  would  leave  the  description  unread  or  un- 
regarded ;  so  look  at  your  engraving  of  the  regal 
residence. 

A  portion  of  the  Castle,  the  state  rooms,  are 
shown  to  visiters.  Their  smallness  struck  both 
Mrs.  Griffiths  and  myself.  The  pictures  and 
mirrors  are  the  great  attractions  ;  some  of  the 
tapestries  are  very  fine,  and  the  Vandykes  are 
perfect.  I  would  fain  have  lingered  to  gaze 
upon  the  features  of  the  first  Charles  Stuart ; 
sadly  mournful,  as  if  the  king  foreboded  his 
doom.  You  remember  Cromwell's  soliloquy  be- 
fore a  portrait  of  his  ill-fated  monarch  :  "  That 


Flemish  painter,  that  Antonio  Vandyke,  what  a 
power  he  has  !  Steel  may  mutilate,  warriors 
may  waste  and  destroy,  still  the  king  stands  un- 
injured by  time ;  and  our  grandchildren,  while 
they  read  his  history,  may  look  on  his  image, 
and  compare  the  melancholy  features  with  the 
woful  tale.  It  was  a  stern  necessity ;  it  was 
an  awful  deed  !" 

Scott  was  one  of  the  few  men  to  whom  the 
world  might  truly  have  rendered  the  Eastern 
salutation,  "  May  you  live  a  thousand  years!" 
'  The  associations  connected  with  Windsor  are 
the  great  charm  :  here  the  Plantagenels  rested 
from  their  wars :  here  mused  the  strong  willed 
Tudor,  the  Seventh  Harry  (the  Louis  Philippe 
of  that   day),   how  to  amass   wealth  for  his 
strangely- charactered  son  to  dissipate  : 
"This  year  a  reservoir,  to  keep  and  spare  ; 
The  next,  a  fountain  spouting  through  his  heir." 

And  in  these  rooms  communed  Mary  with  her 
stern  prelates,  and  Elizabeth  with  her  grave 
councillors  or  handsome  favourites ;  here  the 
sage  Lord  Burleigh  shook  his  reverend  head  in 
earnest,  and  here  Sir  Christopher  Hatton — I 
dare  say  it  was  so — at  any  rate,  one  may  assume 
that 

"  Full  oft  within  these  spacious  walls. 

When  he  had  fifty  winters  o'er  him, 
My  grave  Lord  Keeper  led  the  brawls: 
The  seal  and  maces  danced  before  him ;" 

and  these  rooms  echoed  the  pedantry  of  "  the 
wisest  fool  in  Christendom,"  and  the  revelry  of 
his  black-browed  grandson  ,  nor  is  "the  sagest 
of  usurpers,"  with  his  Ironsides  around  him,  to 
be  forgotten.  After  all,  there  must  have  been 
something  loveable  about  those  Stuarts  ;  so 
strongly  were  their  adherents  attached  to  them, 
that  even  neglect  and  ingratitude  could  not 
alienate  them.  I  heard  a  learned  Irish  lawyer 
say  that  the  Stuarts  were  genilemen ;  a  title  to 
which  none  of  their  successors  could  fairly  lay 
claim,  until — I  forget  which  of  the  Georges  he 
said. 

Of  course  we  had  to  pay  for  seeing  Windsor 
Castle.  The  public  are  shown  round  in  groups ; 
nor  queen's  houses,  nor  houses  dedicated  to 
Him  before  whom  monarchs  are  but  dust,  are  to 
be  seen  for  nothing  in  England  ;  but  a  more 
liberal  spirit  is  at  work.  Hampton  Court  Palace 
is  open  to  the  public ;  and  no  fee  is  paid  at  the 
National  Gallery  or  the  British  Museum. 

We  saw  Prince  Albert  set  forth  on  horseback. 
I  consider  him  eminently  handsome,  and  every 
one  speaks  of  his  amiability.  A  gentleman  near 
us  pronounced  him  the  most  fortunate  youth  in 
existence.  "  Yes,"  added  a  minor-theatre-look- 
ing personage,  "and  he  is  now,  thanks  to  us, 
richer  than  all  his  tribe."  In  England,  the  first 
of  virtues  is  wealth.  The  Americans  may  strug- 
gle as  much  or  more  to  attain  it,  but  its  mere 
possession  is  less  worshipped  with  us  than  in 
Great  Britain. 

The  view  from  the  Terrace  of  Windsor  Cas- 
tle is  most  beautiful — perfectly  English  :  lawns 
and  woods,  and  mansions — the  highest  cultiva- 
tion ;  everything  telling  of  long -established 
wealth  and  peace.  We  visited  the  Virginia 
Waters;  fine,  really  fine  fish-ponds,  but  they 
are  called  lakes.  The  Chapel  (St.  George's)  is 
shown  on  payment  of  the  fees:  it  is  very  njie. 
The  banners  of  the  Knights  of  the  Garter  are 
hung  there,  and  at  the  altar  is  some  very  fine 


AN   AMERICAN   LADY. 


11 


iron-tracery  work  by  Quintin  Matsys,  the  black- 
smith of  Antwerp.  A  monument  to  the  Princess 
Charlotte,  the  daughter  of  George  the  Fourth, 
is  in  St.  George's.  The  soul  of  the  princess  is 
represented  rushing  upward  to  heaven  from  the 
dead  body— but  a  soul  in  marble  looks  so  very 
material. 

The  Park  is  noble  and  spacious,  but  we  asked 
in  vain  for  Kerne's  Oak.  At  Eton  is  the  Col- 
lege founded  by  Henry  the  Sixth ;  great  num- 
bers of  the  children  of  the  nobles  and  gentry  of 
the  country  are  educated  there;  fine-looking 
lads  they  are,  and  not  particularly  shy. 

We  returned  as  we  came.  The  railway  seems 
to  be  converting  Windsor  (I  mean  the  town)  into 
a  London  suburb.  Ever,  etc. 


LETTER  V. 

Untold  Wealth  of  London.— Death  of  Poverty.— London 
Boys. — Drapery  Establishments. — Gin  Palaces. — Collo- 
quy. 

London, ,  1843. 

MY  DEAREST  JULIA  —  I  know  no  task  more 
difficult  than  that  you  have  imposed  upon  me — 
to  give  you  a  notion  of  the  streets  of  London, 
and  of  the  crowds  that  fill  them,  and  of  the 
shops,  etc ,  etc.  You  always  were  liberal  in 
your  commissions  to  your  friends.  "  Can't  you 
describe,"  said  old  Jacob  Tonson  to  one  of  his 
authors,  "what's  just  under  your  eyes  1"  "No," 
was  the  reply.  "And  why  V  "Because  it  is 
just  under  my  eyes,  and  I  look  over  it."  I  leave 
the  application  to  you. 

The  handsome  shops  are  much  the  same  in 
the  large  cities  here  as  in  America ;  no  doubt 
•there  is  more  pretension,  and  a  greater  display  of 
wealth  in  the  Ixmdon  shops — a  display  fully  equal 
to  what  one  might  expect  in  the  richest  city  in 
the  world.  Untold  is  London's  wealth,  and  in- 
describable its  poverty.  In  a  young  country  like 
ours,  where  nearly  every  man  may  daily  labour 
for  his  daily  bread,  we  cannot  see  the  debasing 
abjectness  of  the  poverty  existing  here — a  pov- 
erty that  depresses  the  mind  of  man  to  so  griev- 
ous a  depth  that  he  has  energy  left  for  nothing 
but  to  starve. 

The  squalor  and  wretchedness  in  the  Five 
Points  at  New- York  are  no  doubt  bitter  bad  ; 
but  I  am  well  assured  the  suffering  there  is  but 
in  the  first  degree  of  comparison,  while  it  is  su- 
perlative in  St.  Giles's,  Bethnal  Green,  and  num- 
bers of  courts  and  alleys  in  London,  "  where 
nameless  want  retires  to  die." 

It  is  easy  and  common  to  declaim  against  the 
viciousness  of  the  poor ;  the  self-complacent 
moralist  deplores  it  as  he  writes  his  quarterly 
check  to  pay  his  wine-merchant;  the  rich  man 
hugs  himself  that  he  is  guilty  of  no  petty  larce- 
ny, and  shudders  at  the  hungry  stealer  of  a  loaf. 
Englishmen  will  tolerate  anything  but  poverty, 
and  yet  they  unlock  not  their  hoards  to  aid  their 
brethren  :  they  hold  forth  no  helping  hand,  hut 
dilate  on  the  laziness  of  a  man  to  whom  employ 
ment  is  refused,  and  who  dares  prefer  begging 
to  famishing.  Hunger  makes  a  dog  a  thief;  and 
it  may  well  make  a  poor  man  reckless — for 
what  worse  than  hunger,  cold,  and  contumely, 
can  he  suffer  in  the  prison,  the  hulks,  or  the 
antipodes!  I  have  heard  English  gentlemen, 
whose  yearly  income-tax  would  be  plethoric 


wealth  to  hundreds  of  thousands,  regret  that  the 
poor  were  irreclaimable,  and  there  an  end  ! 
"God  cannot  love,"  says  Blount,  with  tearleae  eyes, 
"The  wretch  he  starves,"  nnd  piously  denies; 
But  the  good  bishop,  with  a  meeker  air. 
Admits,  and  leaves  them — li  Providence's  care." 

But  a  truce  to  this  sad  theme.  "  The  sun  is  ia 
the  heaven,  and  the  proud  day"  invites  us  into 
the  streets.  You  and  I  have  laughed  and  been, 
annoyed  at  the  provoking  precocity  and  self-pos- 
session of  the  boys  in  New- York ;  but  they  are 
openly,  uniformly  bold:  the  London-bred  boy  (I 
speak,  of  course,  of  the  labouring  classes  in  both 
countries)  ia  as  precocious,  but  far  more  wily 
and  covert ;  lie  expends  no  merriment — proffers 
no  query  that  a  cross  person  might  answer  with 
a  crabstick — he  must  be  safe  in  his  sauciness. 
The  streets  are  the  errand  boys'  proper  theatre. 
I  will  give  you  a  few  instances  I  have  heard  of, 
to  show  you  that  our  native  city  can  claim  no 
monopoly  in  puerile  impudence. 

A  philosophical  Frenchman  who  has  travelled 
much  in  Turkey  and  Persia,  but  who  is  by  no 
means  Mohammedan  in  his  ablutions,  gravely 

inquired  of  Mrs.  N why,  as  he  walked  down 

Parliament-street,  he  was  asked  by  seven  differ- 
ent urchins,  "  How  he  was  off  for  soap?" 

An  African  prince  could  rarely  walk  forth  from 
his  hotel  without  being  greeted  with  cries  of 
"Sweep  O!"  which,  until  some  good-natured 
friend  undeceived  him,  he  thought  a  mode  of  re- 
spectful salutation  proper  to  juveniles,  and  re- 
turned it  with  a  pleased  grin  !  "  Ca-a-an  you. 
tell  me,"  asked  poor  stammering  Mr.  Douglas 
Smith,  "  whi-i-ch  is  Rich's  co-o-oach  1"  "  Yes, 
sir,"  said  the  street-boy,  afflicted  also,  and  no 
doubt  suddenly,  with  an  inveterate  stutter :  "  its 
the  to-o-op  of  the  line,  a  re-e-ed  coach,  and  the 
do-o-or  opens  jist  where  you  get  in."  Simple 
Mr.  Smith  passed  on  as  well  satisfied  as  if  this 
position  of  the  door  were  peculiar  to  Rich's 
coach ! 

A  New-England  gentleman,  miraculously  thin, 
though  as  huge  a  feeder  as  Launcelot  Gobbo, 
used  to  be  annoyed  incessantly  by  these  puerile 
pests  ;  the  consequences,  he  said,  at  one  time 
threatened  to  be  serious,  affecting  his  appe- 
tite. "  No  go  at  the  butcher's !"  said  one  boy. 
"Chops  is  riz — chops  is!"  screamed  another. 
A  third  came  close  to  him,  and  said  softly,  and 
as  if  in  sympathy,  "I  say,  sir,  there's  werry 
cheap  oysters  down  that  'ere  court!"  All  this, 
too,  to  a  wealthy  epicure,  whose  knowledge  of 
literature  is  confined  to  cookery  books,  and  who 
has  visited  the  capitals  of  Europe  to  test  their 
respective  dishes ! 

The  large  drapery  establishments  here  are,  I 
suppose,  unrivalled  in  the  whole  world ;  Indian 
jars,  carvings,  gildings,  and  marbles  in  the  inte- 
rior, as  well  as 

" Many  n  mirror,  in  which  he  of  Gath, 

Goliath,  might  have  seen  his  giant  bulk 

Whole,  without  stooping,  towering  crest  and  all ;" 

lamps,  gorgeous  as  in  an  Arabian  Nights'  Tale  ; 
the  windows  of  costly  plate-glass,  sometimes 
the  full  depth  of  the  window  frame,  which  is 
gilded  or  of  highly-polished  mahogany.  All 
without  is  rich,  if  not  rare  ;  but  I  dislike  the  ser- 
vility, in  place  of  civility,  of  those  within — their 
small  simpers  and  smaller  talk. 

ft)  many  of  these  shops  (never  called  stores 
here)  the  attendants  are  dressed  nearly  alike: 
all  must  have  white  neckcloths,  or  something  of 


LETTERS   FROM 


that  kind— why  not  put  them  into  livery  at  once? 
Then  their  pertinacity  to  sell  is  so  tiresome,  that 
I  have  given  up  visiting  several  shops  on  that 
"account ;  the  salesmen  icM  show  you  new 
things,  newer  than,  ever  was  novelty  before, 
and  such  bargains !  I  purchase  a  few  pairs  of 
gloves,  and  am  leaving  the  glittering  counter, 
heaped  with  rich  stuffs  in  most  admired  disor- 
der. "  Something  quite  new  in  figured  satins, 
ma'am,"  interposes  the  shopman.  "  I  want  no- 
thing more  at  present."  "  Yes,  my  lady,  cer- 
tainly ;  beautiful  silks,  the  latest  fashion  in  Par- 
is." "  Nothing  more  at  present ;  good-mor — " 
"Laces,  your  ladyship,  the  newest  patterns," 
etc.,  etc.,  etc.,  and  so  on  throirgh  the  whole 
stock,  if  you  choose  to  listen  ;  they  assume  that 
if  ever  a  lady  purchase  a  riband,  she  must  of  ne- 
cessity want  a  new  shawl ! 

This  teasing  does  not  exist,  I  think,  except 
among  the  drapers ;  the  booksellers,  jewellers, 
upholsterers,  etc.,  do  not  proceed  in  like  manner ; 
one  may  buy  a  watch-key  without  being  impor- 
tuned to  become  the  envied  mistress  of  an  un- 
rivalled musical  clock ;  the  upholsterer  who 
sells  you  a  music-stool  does  not  intimate  his 
persuasion  that  it  is  incumbent  upon  you  to  pur- 
chase a  card-table  as  well.  Mrs.  Trollope's  last 
novel  is  sold  without  the  bookseller  pressing 
upon  the  purchaser  the  necessity  of  buying  a 
French  or  English  Dictionary.  Lady  Morgan 
seems  Mrs.  Trollope's  model  for  French— her 
English  is  her  own. 

There  is  something  effeminate,  I  think,  in 
there  being  so  many  young  men  employed  in 
these  drapery  magazines,  among  muslins,  and 
laces,  and  ribands  ;  something  indelicate,  too,  if 
I  could  detail  to  you  all  the  articles  they  sell, 
and  recommend  to  ladies. 

The  places  next  in  splendour  to  the  drapers 
are  the  gin  stores.  Although  spirituous  liquors 
are  so  much  cheaper  with  us,  I  believe  the  pla- 
ces where  they  are  sold  are  as  numerous  in  Lon- 
don ;  over  the  dopr  is  generally  a  huge  lamp ;  a 
sign  to  the  customers,  and  the  slaves  of  the  lamp 
are  very,  very  many  in  London.  The  gas  is  in 
a  wreath,  or  disposed  in  some  fanciful  way  or 
other ;  they  are  called  gin-palaces ;  the  casks 
containing  the  spirits  are  painted,  and  labeled 
"Old  Tom,"  "The  Rose  of  Life,"  "Butter 
Gin,"  "  Cream  o'  the  Valley,"  Mountain  Dew," 
etc.,  etc.  Cockneys  so  dearly  love  the  rural, 
that  they  must  thus  libel  roses  and  dews — they 
must  drink  pastorally ! 

I  can  easily  conceive  the  policy  which  has 
caused  the  proprietors  of  these  places  to  make 
them  so  superb :  the  gorgeous  fittings  are  the 
poor  man's  while  he  is  among  them ;  they  gaie 
him  a  brief  importance ;  he  can  command  the 
temporary  enjoyment  of  luxuries,  and  loves  to 
command  it. 

Methinks  I  see  you,  0  very  arch  Julia,  open 
your  eyes  and  then  your  mouth — your  eyes  with 
wonder,  that  I  describe  these  things  with  the 
familiarity  of  an  eyewitness,  and  your  mouth 
withjaughter,  that  my  curiosity  (how  often  have 
you  twitted  me  with  it,  mischievous  that  you 
are)  had  carried  me  such  extraordinary  lengths, 
that  it  had  carried  me  into  a  retail  bar !  But 
my  introduction  to  the  internal  worship  of  this 
great  spirit — this  too-powerful  spirit  of  strong 
drink,  was  accidental.  The  other  evening,  Mr 
and  Mrs.  Wilderton  and  1  were  obliged  to  take 


shelter  in  one  in  Oxford-street,  to  avoid  an  over- 
driven and  maddened  ox.  I  am  not  a  temper- 
ance devotee  ;  but  the  contemplation  of  these 
painted  sepulchres,  where  the  hopes  of  the  poor 
man  are  so  often  buried,  is  enough  to  teetotalize 
me;  to  stagger  my  belief  in  the  song,  Barry 
Cornwall's  I  believe, 

••Bad  are  the  time*, 

And  bad  the  rhymes, 

Thai  scorn  old  wine." 

And  mine,  you  know,  is  a  very  disinterested 
creed,  as  I  rarely  taste  wine. 

Three  poor  women  of  the  working  class  en- 
tered this  gin-palace  while  we  waited.  "  Please 
miss,"  said  one  to  the  smartly  ringed  and  ring- 
leted barmaid,  "  a  quarten  of  the  right  sort,  and 
a  three-out."  The  spirit  was  supplied,  and  gulp- 
ed approvingly.  "Money  never  was  so  dull," 
said  the»paymistress  of  the  trio  ;  "  I  can  get 
none,  and  have  been  forced  to  put  my  bed  up 
my  uncle's  flue."  The  hearers  were  expressing 
their  commiseration  of  this  state  of  finances, 
when  a  drunken  butcher  rushed  into  the  place, 
and  we  thought  it  better  to  face  the  furious  brute 
than  the  imbruted  man,  and  so  left. 

I  requested  Mr.  Wilderton  to  translate  me  the 
poor  woman's  speech  into  English  :  "  It  is  Eng- 
lish," laughed  he.  "  Translate  it  into  American, 
then."  "The  three-out  glass,"  he  explained, 

is  one  that  contains  a  third  of  the  measure 
purchased,  so  that  the  quarter  of  a  pint  fills  out 
three  glasses  ;  the  uncle's  flue,  which  you  seem 
to  think  is  some  chimney  in  which  the  untidy 
woman  had  concealed  her  bed,  is  the  pawnbro- 
ker's warehouse — the  poor  call  the  pawnbroker 
their  uncle."  God  pity  them,  thought  I,  if  they 
have  no  better  kinsman. 

British  travellers  are  ingenious  in  detecting 
and  collecting  Americanisms  ;  they  are  in  nine- 
teen cases  out  of  twenty  "  genuine  as  imported," 
and  they  are  imported  from  the  old  country.  I 
suppose  we  have  "my  uncle"  and  his  "  flue"  in 
America  by  this  time. 

The  innkeepers  here  also  advertise  their  cheap 
wines  "genuine  as  imported  ;"  they  avoid  a  di- 
rect falsehood  by  never  stating  ichencc  they  have 
imported  them.  Ever,  etc. 


LETTER  VI. 

"  Craft"  of  Book-making. — Charity  and  Leather  Breeches, 
— St.  Paul's  as  a  Theatre. — Charity  Dinner. — Work 
house.— Newgate.— Felons  who  are  "  Colour  de  Rose." 

MY  DEAREST  JULIA — Mr.  Dickens  has  devoted 
thirty-five  pages  to  an  account  of  a  blind  and 
deaf  and  dumb  girl,  Laura  Bridgman,  and  thir- 
teen to  Oliver  Caswell,  a  boy  almost  similarly 
afflicted.  The  cases  are  undoubtedly  well  wor- 
thy of  record,  interesting  alike  to  the  metaphy- 
sician and  philanthropist,  and  admirably  told, 
while  the  institution  itself  is  of  the  noblest  in  the 
world ;  and  to  praise  the  superintendent,  Dr. 
Howe,  would  be  only  to  echo  the  general  voice 
of  America,  and  echoes  are  sometimes  weari- 
some ;  but  one  is  driven  to  remark  the  peculi- 
arity of  a  work  that  devotes  forty-eight  pages 
to  these  cases,  and  not  so  many  lines  to  impor- 
tant notional  subjects. 

Did  you  ever  hear  of  a  craft  called  book-ma- 
king! A  writer  undertakes  to  enlighten  the 
world  on  a  certain  subject,  but  his  stock  of  light 


AN  AMERICAN   LADY. 


13 


falls  short,  and  he  is  fain  to  supply  its  place  with 
any  indistinct  glimmering,  in  order  to  complete 
his  task  somehow  or  other;  he  even  plants  a 
sorry  twinkling  taper  in  an  out-office,  and 
hopes  it  may  pass  for  an  illumination  of  the 
whole  premises  !  To  drop  metaphor — when  an 
author,  whose  works  are  sure  to  sell,  has  to 
write  a  book  in  a  given  time,  and  with  a  mind 
unoppressed  with  information  on  the  weightier 
matters  of  his  theme,  he  introduces  a  few  epi- 
sodes, as  necessary  to  illustrate  his  subject  as  a 
painted  flag  is  to  navigate  a  man-of-war ;  and 
thus  helped,  the  printer  has  matter  enough,  and 
the  public  are  satisfied  that  the  volumes  have  a 
guinea-sized  look  with  them.  It  may  be  true 
that  little  information  is  conveyed  to  the  reader 
— but  what  thenT  Was  not  the  book  written 
by  the  famous  Quiz/icus  ?  Does  not  the  name 
of  the  author  atone  for  the  deficiencies  of  the 
volumes  1  they,  like  rank  in  the  Scottish  song, 
are 

"  But  the  guinea's  stamp : 
The  man's  the  gowd  for  a'  that." 

The  answer  Hamlet  gave  the  courtier  should 
be  these  writers'  motto  : 

"  What  shall  we  say,  my  lord  ?" 
"  Anything,  but  to  the  purpose." 

Until  I  had  been  some  time  in  England,  I  did 
not  know  what  abundant  reason  an  American 
had  to  be  proud  of  the  institutions  of  his  country. 
I  have  been  listened  to  with  surprise  when  I 
have  told  of  free  establishments,  such  as  the 
Latin  Grammar  School  at  Boston,  where  the  son 
of  a  working  mechanic  once  obtained  Franklin's 
medal,  the  next  competitor  being  the  son  of  the 
President  of  the  United  States  (I  find,  par  pa- 
renthcsc,  "John  Tyler"  included  in  an  English 
almanac  in  a  list  of  the  sovereigns  of  Europe). 
In  Great  Britain  the  children  of  the  poor  some- 
times rise  to  eminence,  but  the  road  is  not 
smoothed  to  them  as  with  us — so  rugged  is  it 
often  found,  that  many  an  ardent  spirit  has  fret- 
ted its  o'er-informed  tenement  of  clay  unto  the 
death  in  vain  struggles  to  reach  the  goal.  The» 
as  to  education — but  of  that  hereafter. 

Mr.  Dickens  is  quite  right  in  intimating  that 
"charity  and  leather  breeches  are  inseparable 
companions"  in  this  country.  Charity  may  not 
be  "  hideous  in  a  garb  like  this,"  but  it  tells  of 
the  hatefulness  of  caste ;  the  inmates  of  the 
charitable  institutions  in  Great  Britain  are  made 
to  feel  that  they  are  Pariahs — the  bread  they 
eat  is  full  of  the  bitterness  of  dependance  ;  the 
child  of  the  wealthy  shopkeeper  has  a  fertile 
source  of  amusement  in  the  grotesque  attire  of 
the  poor  charity-boy,  whether  it  be  distinguished 
as  Mr.  Dickens  has  described  it%  or  by  large  but- 
tons, or  by  its  coarseness,  or  merely  because  it 
is  the  dress  least  adapted  to  the  climate.  The 
charity-girls  (so  they  are  always  called)  wear 
generally  a  dark  stuff  frock,  a  white  apron,  and 
a  white  cap,  sometimes  with  an  attempt  at  a 
frill  to  it ;  the  children  every  Sunday  are  para- 
ded to  and  from  church;  they  occupy  places  set 
apart  for  them — and  the  vest  of  many  a  purse- 
proud  citizen  in  the  sacred  walls  swells  with 
pride  at  this  ostensible  proof  of  his  philanthropy. 
Were  it  not  for  the  scena — the  effect — the  chil- 
dren might  have  died  untaught  and  on  unclean 
straw,  for  anything  be  cared  about  them  ;  but 
there  they  are,  and  there  is  his  name  printed  at 
full  length  in  the  list  of  subscribers,  that  the 


world  may  know  how  he  feels  for  the  poor. 
And  after  his  plenteous  dinner  on  Sundays  (far 
beyond  Sir  Balaam's,  even  with  the  added  pud- 
ding), he  expatiates  to  his  family  on  the  excel- 
lence of  a  feeling  heart  and  a  judicious  subscrip- 
tion, denies  his  servants  leave  to  go  forth  and 
breath  fresh  air,  falls  asleep  in  his  easy  chair, 
and  dreams  he  is  another  Howard ;  for  having 
visited  St.  Paul's,  he  knows  there  was  a  How- 
ard, Because  he  has  seen  his  statue,  and  has 
learned  that  Howard  also  was  a  philanthropist. 

As  I  have  mentioned  St.  Paul's,  and  am  on 
the  subject  of  charities,  I  may  as  well  tell  you 
that  in  St.  Paul's  Cathedral,  every  May,  are  two 
Musical  Festivals,  the  profits  of  which  go  to 
charities  in  aid  of  the  sons  of  the  clergy  (of 
course  the  destitute  clergy),  and  of  the  parochial 
schools.  The  interior  of  the  cathedral  is  stall- 
ed and  galleried  ;  the  music  is  surpassingly  fine  ; 
the  ladies  exquisitely  beautiful  in  their  newest 
spring  fashions,  and  the  object  praiseworthy; 
but  why  not  have  the  performance  in  a  theatre! 
The  introductory  service  is  so  little  cared  for, 
that  were  there  only  that,  there  would  only  be 
a  pewful  of  congregation  ;  so  I  think  they  might 
"  sound  the  loud  timbrel"  more  appropriately  in 
a  playhouse,  for  it  is  boxed  and  galleried  ready, 
and  is  built  for  purposes  of  pageantry  and  pa- 
rade The  cathedral  would  not  then  be  dese- 
crated with  so  much  profane  carpentry  and  up- 
holstery ;  nor  need  Divine  service  be  suspended 
for  a  fortnight,  that  the  workman's  hammer  may 
not  sound  responsive  to  the  clergyman's  prayer. 
Money,  no  doubt,  is  thus  made  in  the  house  of 
God ;  but  of  old  the  money-changers  were  driven 
from  the  Temple — the  English  put  such  odd  con- 
structions on  Holy  Writ. 

The  friends  and  supporters  of  many  of  the 
London  charities  e«t  an  annual  dinner  together, 
and  gravely  advertise  it,  as  for  the  benefit  of  the 
charity  !  There  are  the  patrons,  and  the  presi- 
dents, and  the  vice-presidents,  and  I  know 
not  what  functionaries  beside.  Many  are  the 
speeches ;  great  is  the  laudation  ;  you  would 
believe,  to  listen  to  them,  that  the  company 
formed  a  constellation  of  all  the  virtues — a  gal- 
axy of  perfectibilities.  I  was  once  present  at  a 

scene  of  this  kind  .-  Mrs. ,  the  banker's  lady, 

persuaded  me  to  accompany  her,  promising  me 
an  intellectual  treat !     A  few  ladies  were  ad- 
mitted by  sufferance  into  a  small  gallery  in  the 
*e  room  in  the  City  of  London  Tavern — I 
w  little  of  London  then,  or  I  would  have  de- 
clined this  offer. 

The  dinner  tickets  were  a  guinea  each ;  a 
civic  dignitary  was  in  the  chair,  and  there  was 
a  sprinkling  of  members  of  Parliament;  a  man 
of  excellent  lungs  stood  near  the  chairman,  to 
give  out  the  toasts  and  direct  the  cheering,  to 
play  first  shout — "  Take  the  time  from  me,  gen- 
tlemen !"  he  kept  saying :  "  Hip,  hip,  hu-u-rah  !" 
Clattered  the  windows  and  danced  the  glasses  ; 
and  I  asked  my  conductress  if  it  would  not  have 
been  better  if  the  two  or  three  hundred  guineas 
expended  in  the  banquet  had  gone  to  augment 
the  funds  of  the  charity,  and  these  vehemently- 
yelling  gentlemen  had  dined  quietly  at  hornet 
I  received  no  answer. 

I  had  not  been  long  in  the  gallery  before  I 
became  convinced  how  fallaciously  the  poet 
wrote, 

"Brisk  as  the  wit  it  gives,  the  gay  Champagne;" 


14 


LETTERS  FROM 


for  it  gave  these  substantial  citizens  no  wit  what- 
ever. I  expected  an  animated  comedy — it  was 
a  dull  farce.  There  were  some  professional 
singers  present — they  let  themselves  out  at  so 
much  per  head  per  night.  Some  of  the  songs 
were  said  to  be  comic — they  were  all  common- 
place ;  the  more  suitable,  I  suppose,  to  the  occa- 
sion, being  easily  understood. 

There  can  be  no  reasonable,  or  indeed  possi- 
ble, objection  why  two  or  three  hundred  fellow- 
citizens  should  not  dine  together  in  public,  if  it 
so  please  them — but  why  can  it  not  be  done 
unless  in  the  name  of  a  charity  1  How  these 
Pharisaic  Christians  (if  I  may  so  speak)  must 
laugh  at  the  simple  ones,  the  soft  ones  (I  believe 
that  is  the  word)  who  "  do  good  by  stealth,  and 
blush  to  find  it  fame ;"  the  good  they  do  is  bla- 
zoned to  the  world  ;  there  must  be  no  stealth 
about  their  charities  ;  and  as  for  blushes — such 
persons  may  redden,  they  never  blush.  The  re- 
port of  their  doings  in  the  public  journals  are, 
with  these  men,  the  very  moral  of  the  tale. 

Robespierre  described  himself  as  "  1'esclave 
de  la  liberte ;"  and  I  know  one  American,  at  least, 
whom  the  designation  suits  (the  Frenchman 
should  have  said  "  le  tyran,"  not  "  1'esclave"). 
Your  thriving  Englishman  is  the  slave  to  aristo- 
cratic distinctions ;  and  sometimes  at  these 
charity  dinners  he  is  nodded  to  by  "  his  Grace  ;" 
perhaps  "  my  Lord"  condescends  to  take  wine 
with  him,  and  he  at  once  sees  the  excellence  of 
having  a  class  privileged  because  rocked  in  cor- 
oneted  cradles,  and  learns  to  despise  the  simpli- 
city of  a  republic.  I  believe,  however,  that  the 
real  aristocracy  in  their  select  circles  amuse 
themselves  no  little  at  the  expense  of  those 
bourgeois  gentilhommes — as  supple  where  rank- 
is  concerned,  if  not  as  simple,  as  Mons.  Jour- 
dain,  when  that  worthy  worshipper  of  the  Great 
believed  that  he  was  marrying  his  daughter  to 
the  son  of  the  Grand  Turk. 

From  the  charity-school  to  the  workhouse  is 
no  violent  digression.  You  are  familiar  enough 
with  English  matters  to  know  of  what  descrip- 
tion are  the  houses  that  "  hold  the  parish  poor." 
A  great  change  has  taken  place  in  the  discipline 
of  those  establishments.  I  hope  Crabbe's  ac- 
count is  of  an  altogether  bygone  thing.  These 
places  were  called  workhouses,  I  presume,  be- 
cause in  a  great  many  of  them  no  work  was 
ever  done — a  system  of  nomenclature  not  un- 
common in  England. 

I  went  through  the  female  wards  of  one  4r 
the  large  metropolitan  workhouses  (St.  Pan- 
eras).  There  is  little  to  describe.  Perfect 
cleanliness  and  order  prevailed  throughout ;  the 
diet  is  no  doubt  better  than  many  a  poor  man 
can  place  before  his  family — boiled  meat  three 
days  a  week  ;  but  over  all  there  is  such  an  ap- 
pearance of  constraint.  The  girls  said  they 
were  happy,  because  the  question  was  asked 
before  one  of  the  matrons  of  the  institution, 
and  so  they  knew  it  must  be  answered.  I  think 
we  were  told  there  were  above  a  thousand  souls, 
men,  women,  and  children,  in  the  St.  Pancras 
Workhouse — the  population  of  a  small  town  ! 

I  have  looked  through  Newgate,  too — massive 
Newgate.  Barnaby  Rudge  has  made  us  fa- 
miliar with  the  riots  of  1780,  when  a  no- Popery 
mob  (it  should  be  called  %  "  no-religion"  one) 
burned  this,  his  majesty's  jail,  and  set  free  his 
prisoners.  I  do  not  remember  having  read  a 


detailed  historical  account  of  these  fires,  rob- 
beries, and  depredations  Is  it  not  Johnson 
who  tells  how  as  he  passed  along  the  street 
where  Newgate  stands — the  Old  Bailey — he 
saw  the  people  plundering  the  Sessions  House 
deliberately  and  undisturbed  1  "  Such,'  says 
he,  "  is  the  cowardice  of  a  commercial  place." 
He  might  have  added — in  England.  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  N.  had  obtained  orders  to  he  shown  over 
Newgate,  and  I  accompanied  them.  The  prison 
is,  I  doubt  not,  like  prisons  with  us,  only  differ- 
ing in  its  discipline.  "In  an  American  state 
prison,"  says  Mr.  Dickens,  "  I  found  it  difficult 
at  first  to  persuade  myself  I  was  really  in  a 
jail."  This  is  a  difficulty  which  does  not  exist 
in  England. 

A  woman  who  looked  like  a  jaileress  con- 
ducted us  over  the  female  wards.  We  might 
question  the  prisoners  if  we  pleased,  but  did  not 
follow  Mr.  Dickens's  example.  I  have  no  fond- 
ness for  the  biogiaphy,  least  of  all  for  the  auto- 
biography, of  thieves  and  pickpockets.  A  rosy 
and  somewhat  jocular  turnkey  was  our  guide 
over  the  other  parts.  The  little  boys  fell  into 
line  at  the  turnkey's  bidding,  "as  if,"  Mr.  N. 
said,  "they  were  playing  at  soldiers."  There 
they  stood  to  be  questioned,  and  any  little  shame 
left  drilled  out  of  them.  Mr.  N.  did  ask  a  few 
questions  of  some  mere  children,  sent  to  New- 
gate to  await  their  trials  for  stealing  pence  and 
such  like.  "Well,  and  what  are  you  in  for!" 
"  Robbing  the  till,  sir."  "  And  you  '?"  "  Prig- 
ging a  wipe'1  (which,  being  interpreted,  is  steal- 
ing a  pocket-handkerchief).  "This  very  little 
fellow."  said  the  turnkey,  "  is  in  for  stealing 
seven  cigars."  "  Only  six,"  coolly  said  the  lad, 
in  correction.  "  And  you  V  "  Please,  sir,  I 
was  sent  on  an  errand  with  a  bob,  and  lost  my- 
self, and  was  taken  bad,  and  forced  to  spend  it 
in  grub  and  heavy"  (meat  and  beer:  a  bob  is 
evidently  some  coin). 

The  officers,  by  loopholes  ingeniously  contri- 
ved in  the  walls,  can  see  over  the  whole  prison, 
themselves  unseen  the  while.  We  were  shown 
the  chapel,  where  the  condemned  sermons  are 
preached  ;  also  casts  from  the  heads  of  the 
most  eminent  murderers,  and  very  heavy  irons 
worn  by  Messrs.  Sheppard  and  Turpin,  much- 
admired  housebreakers  and  highwaymen  of  old, 
and,  according  to  Mr.  Harrison  Ainsworth,  men. 
of  gentlemanly  demeanour,  considerable  ac- 
quirements, and  no  little  amiability.  A  drama- 
tized Jack  Sheppard  was,  a  few  seasons  back, 
the  delight  of  numerous  audiences  in  the  Lon- 
don theatres  ;  the  mirror  was  held  up  to  thiev- 
ery, which  was  rapturously  applauded,  and  Jack 
was  highly  popular.  The  air  of  one  of  the 
songs  was  heard- in  every  corner  of  every  street, 
on  hand-organs,  and  fiddles,  and  hurdy-gurdies, 
and  all  manner  of  music.  The  burden  is,  "Nix 
my  dolly  pals,  fake  away  !"  What  it  means  I 
cannot  even  guess.  How  properly  may  the 
British  criticise  our  peculiarities  of.expression  ; 
their  own  "  well  of  English"  being  undefiled 
with  the  dirtiness  of  vulgarity  or  blackguardism. 
Ever,  etc. 


AN    AMERICAN    LADY. 


15 


I  a  heavy  stone  arch,  the  boundary  line  of  Lon- 
I  don  and  Westminster,  where  the  heads  of  trai- 


LETTER  VII. 

.    _          don  and  Westminster,  where  the  heads  of  trai- 
A^l!reetr!m^^  <a»  the  conquerors  always  called   them) 

ness  of  Allegory  in  the  Marble  Monuments.— Religio  |  were  exposed  on  spikes  of   old  ;   exploded  CU3- 
Loci.— Bank  of  England.— Rich  and  Rude.— Gold  and  1  tomg   Of  a  more   barbarous   age  :    no  heaus  are 
Opium.  — The    Tower.  — Harlequinade    of   Streets.— 
Thames  Tunnel.— Presumptuous  Undertaking. 


London,  -  ,  1843. 


age  :  no    eaas  are 

exposed  now,  that  is,  without  their  bodies  ;  no 
felon  is  hung  in  chains  as  a  terror  to  evil  doers, 
which  it  was  not;  spectacles  these,  "like  the 


DEAREST  JULIA  —  I  am  right  glad  you  have  j  lost  Pleiad,  seen  no  more  below"  (would  not 
been  so  gay  in  New-  York,  and  going  to  be  so  J  "  above"  be  jnore  correct,  of  a  missing  star  !). 
again 


'  but  leave  the  gay,  the  festive  scene," 


and  rove  with  me — certainly  not  "through  for- 
est green,"  but  amid  London  sights. 

Mr.  Dickens,  with  two  policemen,  bis  guides 
and  guardians,  made  a  pilgrimage  into  the  Five 
Points  at  New- York,  and  has  the  merit  of  dis- 
covering that  there  were  poverty,  and  vice,  and 


fever,  and 
great  city 


ncing  negro,  in  the  purlieus  of  a 
On  Sunday  nights  I  trust  that  even 


in  the  Five  Points  there  are  no  dancings  ;  in 
London,  in  or  near  a  horrid  place  called  Field 
Lane,  where  no  lady  can  possibly  venture,  I  am 
well  assured  there  are.  London  boasts  of  its 
police,  as  well  as  of  the  observance  of  the 


And   along  Fleet-street  —  to   the   right,  is   the 


Temple,  the  Knights  Templars  having  given 
place  (vast  change  !)  to  a  body  of  lawyers  ;  the 
corslet  has  yielded  to  the  gown,  the  helmet  to- 
the  wig  !  And  up  Ludgate  Hill,  famous  for  its 
shops,  and  into  St.  Paul's  Churchyard,  and,  lo! 
the  noble  Cathedral.  We  were  just  behind  the 
gratuitous  hours,  9  to  11  A.M.  and  3  to  4  P.M., 
so  we  paid  our  twopences  and  entered.  It  is 
the  most  august  of  Christian  temples  which  L 
have  seen  in  any  country  —  remember  I  have 
not  bejen  in  Italy  —  but  the  interior,  even  with  its 
pillars  and  monuments,  looks  —  oh  !  so  cold. 
The  monuments  are  chiefly  to  naval  and  milita- 


Lord's  Day.  I  ry  heroes  (is  it  right  to  monumentalize  deeds  of 

Another  thing  Mr.  Dickens  was  fortunate  in  I  blood  in  the  house  of  peace  ?),  and  I  cannot  but 
meeting  in  America — pigs.  One  would  think  j  think  there  are  far  too  many  Britannias,  and 
from  the  two  pages  and  a  half  he  gives  to  the  I  Fames,  Victories,  and  lions.  A  lady  had  need 
subject,  that  pigs  were  proper  to  Broadway  !  |  be  well  versed  in  allegory  to  understand  what 
We  have  them  again  at  Louisville — two  pages  i  she  sees;  I  confess  I  was  puzzled;  but  still  the 
of  pigs,  and  encounter  them,  moreover,  as  we  !  religion  of  the  place  impresses  itself  upon  one's 
travel  with  him  from  Columbus  to  Sandusky,  feelings,  standing  in  the  midst  of  WYen's  glori- 
and  from  New- York  to  Lebanon.  One  might  j  ous  work,  with  far-resounding  aisles  and  memo- 
really  think  that  he  was  describing  Ireland,  [  rials  to  the  unforgotten  dead  around,  what  can 
where  the  pig,  as  that  amiable  gourmand,  Mr.  I  one  feel  but  an  elevation  of  soul,  a  forget ful- 
;  a  sad  necessity  of  j  ness  of  the  soil  and  stain  of  the  world!  We 
did  not  visit  the  Whispering  Gallery,  nor  the 


wnere  the  pig, 
,  said  of  h 


life." 


,  said  of  his  gout,  is 


But  the  carriage  with  my  friendly  cicerones 
is  waiting  at  the  door  of  my  lodgings,  and  rap- 
idly it  rolls  along  Piccadilly,  and  down  the  Hay- 
market,  and  past  a  statue  with  a  pig-tail,  erect- 
ed in  honour  of  George  the  Third  (the  sculptor 
must  have  owed  his  majesty  a  grudge),  and  past 
the  much-quizzed  National  Gallery,  and  the  un- 
finished monument  to  Nelson,  which  rises  as 
slowly  as  they  say  merit  does  ;  and  the  eques- 
trian statue  of  King  Charles  at  Charing  Cross, 
beginning  to  look  little,  as  kings  will  sometimes, 


Ball,  nor  other  places  shown  separately,  and  to 
be  separately  paid  for.  It  seems  so  strange  that 
the  British  should  have  to  buy  the  right  of  en- 
tering these  buildings.  If  it  be  proper  that 
they  should  be  entered  at  all  by  the  merely  cu- 
rious, it  must  be  as  proper  that  they  should  be 
open  to  the  decent  poor  man  who  cannot  spare 
twopence,  as  to  the  irreligious  rich  one,  who  is 
hardly  conscious  so  small  a  sum  exists,  open  to 
Lazarus  as  to  Dives. 

In  writing  to  an  American  lady  (and  such  a 


amid  the  buildings  now  surrounding  him;  and  !  lady),  it  is  not  nqjsessary  to  be  so  precise  as  it 
the  Duke  of  Northumberland's  house  with  a  j  would  be  to  a  native  of  another  country  ;  I 
stone  lion  at  the  top  ;  and  here  is  the  Strand  mean  in  descriptions.  It  is  not  necessary  to 


with  its  smooth  wooden  pavement,  so  pleasant- 
ly un-noisy.  Things  are  reversed  in  London 
now  :  the  houses  used  to  be  wooden  and  the 
streets  stone  ;  now  the  houses  are  brick  and  the 
streets  timber.  And  ever  and  anon  are  stop- 
pages and  long  gatherings  of  vehicles  until  way 
is  made  ;  and  huge  coal-wagons,  with  their 
four,  five,  or  .six  heavy  horses,  sleek  and  shape- 
less, emerging  from  the  lanes  and  alleys  that 
lead  from  the  wharves  by  the  river  side — the 
river  running  in  a  line  with  the  Strand  ;  and  to 
the  left  is  Exeter  Hall,  famed  for  oratory  of  much 
dross  and  some  gold  ;  and  to  the  right  Som- 
erset House,  full  of  government  offices,  where, 
from  ten  to  four,  a  great  many  clerks  laborious- 
ly transact  public  business,  and  write  letters  to 
their  private  friends,  and  read  the  papers,  and 
discuss  the  state  of  parties,  political  or  conviv- 
ial, and  the  merits  of  their  respective  luncheons ; 
and  we  pass  two  fine  churches,  St.  Mary's  and 
St.  Clement's  Danes  ;  and  here  is  Temple  Bar, 


say  that  St.  Paul's  is  Grecian,  and  Westmin- 
ster Abbey  Gothic,  and  so  on.  Community  of 
language  and  descent  gives  the  American  to 
understand  very  brief  hints  relative  to  the  old 
country.  As  to  statistics,  I  hate  them  worse 
than  Dr.  Beattie  did  the  shrill  voice  of  Chanti- 
cleer. I  think  they  are  as  unsuitable  to  a  lady's 
letter  as  a  pen  behind  her  ear  would  be  to  a 
ball-dress.  Expect  no  accounts  of  revenues 
and  emoluments  from  me  ;  how  this  church  is 
most  lavishly  endowed,  and  this  not  endowed 
at  all ;  the  one  in  all  probability  being  ancient, 
when  Englishmen  did  endow  their  churches,  the 
other  modern,  when  they  don't. 

Among  the  Canons  Residentiary  of  St.  Paul's 
is  the  wittiest  man  in  England,  as  I,  at  least, 
account  the  Rev.  Sydney  Smith,  also  the  learn- 
ed classic,  Dr.  Tate.  The  Deanery  is  generally 
given  to  enrich  some  poor,  or,  rather,  some 
poorer  Bishopric.  There  is  service  daily  in  the 
Cathedral ;  but  I  need  hardly  detail  all  this  to. 


16 


LETTERS    FROM 


one,  herself  a  member  of  the  Episcopal  Church 
of  America. 

From  St.  Paul's  we  proceeded  down  Cheap- 
side  ^perhaps  the  busiest  thoroughfare  in  Lon- 
don), and  the  Guildhall  terminates  a  short  street 
to  the  left ;  in  its  large  hall  are  a  few  monu- 
ments, and  the  hideous  figures  of  Gog  and  Ma- 
gog ;  the  election  and  Corporation  meetings  are 
held  here  ;  the  eloquence  heard  in  the  Courts  of 
Aldermen  and  Common  Council  is  not  consid- 
ered of  a  high  order ;  and  at  the  foot  of  Cheap- 
side  stands  the  Mansion  House,  the  official  abode 
of  the  Lord-mayor — it  is  squab  and  square,  as 
beseems  a  civic  mansion.  It  had  been  cleaned 
and  scraped  not  very  long  before,  and  looks,  not 
clean,  but  pretending  cleanliness  I  ought  to 
have  told  you  how  dingy  nearly  all  the  public 
buildings  in  London  are.  St.  Paul's,  in  some 
parts  of  its  exterior,  being  one  soot.  A  little 
beyond  the  Mansion  House  is  the  Bank  of  Eng- 
land. We  walked  in,  and  through,  and  about 
a  great  many  offices,  no  guide  or  introdnction 
being  necessary.  Sovereigns  were  flung  about 
as  indifferently  as  if  they  were  pebbles  ;  indeed, 
they  are  as  valueless  to  the  clerks  and  assist- 
ants, being  none  of  theirs.  The  Bank  of  Eng- 
land deals  in  moneys  of  all  kinds,  as  other  traders 
deal  in  their  respective  wares.  A  guard  of  sol- 
diers is  constantly  in  the  Bank,  and  at  every 
turn  you  meet  a  porter  or  some  one  in  the  Bank 
livery  —  for  nearly  all  the  public  bodies  here 
must  have  their  servants  in  livery.  Aristocracy, 
especially  in  its  vanities  and  vices,  is  aped  even 
unto  the  twentieth  remove.  I  exchanged  a  £20 
note  for  sovereigns,  having  to  write  my  name 
and  address  on  its  front ;  a  pompous-looking 
personage  in  spectacles,  and  sitting  with  others 
in  a  sort  of  cage,  looked  over  a  long  list  of 
something  or  other,  then  tore  a  piece  off  the 
note,  and  after  I  was  answered  in  monosyllables, 
and  stared  at  as  if  I  was  suspected  of  having 
stolen  the  paper,  the  sovereigns  were  flung  to- 
wards me ;  some  of  them,  by-the-way,  were 
returned  to  me  afterward,  being  light  weight. 

If  the  mind  is  directed  heavenward  in  St. 
Paul's,  Mammon  asserts  his  full  right  here — for 
here  is  the  Stock  Exchange  on  one  side,  and  the 
new  Royal  Exchange,  in  course  of  erection,  on 
the  other ;  here  are  the  devdtat,  unscrupulous, 
untiring  worshippers  of  their  one  god,  whose 
name  is  Gold !  Here  are  the  originators  of 
countless  schemes,  the  speculators  in  every- 
thing and  every  place— miners  in  Mexico  and 
Peru,  land-agents  in  Australia,  fishers  in  the  far 
Pacific,  growers  of  tropical  produce,  exporters 
of  opium.  If  a  sign-board  with  a  distich  were 
necessary  to  indicate  their  calling,  as  used  to  be 
the  case  in  many  parts  once,  I  would  recommend 
to  the  highly  respectable  merchants — the  dealers 
in  wholesale  opium — a  line  or  two  from  Signor 
Romeo,  tolerably  applicable,  when  Mantua  is 
transposed  into  China,  and  a  single  word  chan- 
ged. Any  little  novelty  in  the  way  of  a  death's 
.head  would  serve  for  a  sign— here's  the  distich  : 

"  And  if  a  man  did  need  a  poison  now 
Whose  sale  is  certain  death  in  China, 
Her*  lives  a  caitiff-wretch  will  sell  it  him." 
The  blank  verse  does  rather  halt  for  it,  n'iro- 
porte.     A  needy  druggist  is  accounted  an  infa- 
mous fellow,  and  will  be  punished,  if  he  sell  a 
desperate  wretch  a  vial  of  laudanum ;  but  it  is 
by  no  means  accounted  infamous — infamous ! 


how  can  an  English  merchant  with  an  immense 
capital  do  anything  infamous! — it  is  only  mer- 
cantile, to  sell  opium  for  poisoning  purposes  by 
the  ship-load  :  there  is  an  aristocracy,  you  see, 
even  in  crime,  and  the  English  so  love  all  kinds 
of  aristocracy ;  to  poison  an  individual  is  New- 
gate and  the  gallows — to  poison  a  distant  prov- 
ince is  a  right  and  a  privilege  which  WAR  must 
vindicate. 

After  the  Bank,  the  question  was  where  to  go 
next.  As  we  were  so  far  eastward,  it  was  ex- 
pedient to  visit  an  eastern  shrine.  The  Tower 
was  suggested,  and  the  Thames  Tunnel.  Most 
people  here  and  many  in  America  are  familiar 
xvith  the  list  of  show  things  in  the  Tower ;  your 
book-wisdom,  I  will  praise  it  highly,  is  almost 
equal  to  your  beauty,  so  I  need  not  describe  the 
fine  collection  of  armour,  and  will  spare  you  the 
sparkle  of  the  crown  jewels,  and  the  horror  of 
the  Spanish  thumb  screws.  The  loss  of  more 
than  100,000  stand  of  arms  by  the  late  fire  was 
taken  as  coolly  by  the  people  as  if  they  had  been 
popguns.  I  could  say  much,  but  perhaps  nothing 
new,  about  the  Tower,  as  it  was  and  as  it  is, 
fortress,  palace,  prison,  show-  box.  I  could  dilate 
upon  Anne  Boleyn  and  Jane  Grey,  and  the  vic- 
tims of  the  "  forty-five,"  and  the  traitor's  gate. 
An  old  country  has  much  to  interest. 

We  had  just  time  and  daylight  for  the  Thames 
Tunnel.  Boston  reminded  Boz  of  a  pantomime 
(the  Bostonians  will  feel  flattered),  Harlequin 
and  Columbine  lodging  at  a  very  small  clock- 
maker's.  I  never  knew  before  that  Harlequin 
or  Columbine  lodged  anywhere,  being  very  go- 
a-head  personages,  and  always  abroad.  But 
the  rapid  changes  in  London  reminded  me  of 
the  transformations  in  a  pantomime,  and  this 
struck  me  forcibly  as  we  went  to  the  Tunnel, 
as  well  as  on  many  other  excursions :  a  hand- 
some street  is  suddenly  replaced  by  a  squalid 
lane  ;  a  trim,  new  square,  neighboured  by  a 
nondescript  patch,  neither  field,  brick-kiln,  nor 
waste  ground  ;  a  flaunting  tavern  alongside  a 
burial-ground  (truly  from  grave  to  gay)  ;  and 
these  changes  are  so  incessant  as  to  be  hardly 
noticed. 

A  shilling  each  was  paid  to  see  the  Tunnel — 
it  is  now  opened  as  a  thoroughfare  for  foot  pas- 
sengers, at  a  toll  of  a  penny.  We  descended 
huge  stairs,  amid  the  clatter  of  vast  machinery, 
and  in  an  indistinct  light,  which  flung  a  melo- 
dramatic horror  over  the  scene  ;  down,  and 
down,  and  down,  and  at  last  we  stand  within 
the  Tunnel.  Really,  it  is  marvellous :  a  long 
covered  way  of  solid  stone,  arched  something 
like  the  cloisters  in  old  abbeys  (you  have  a 
painting  of  one  at  Fountains'  Abbey  in  York- 
shire), with  the  walls  inclining  slantwise,  the 
better,  I  suppose,  to  resist  the  incumbent  weight 
of  water;  a  long  line  of  gas  lamps  lights  it; 
and  so  you  walk  from  Surrey  to  Middlesex  un- 
der the  river!  There  was  a  sound  of  rushing 
waters,  from  what  source  I  hardly  know,  and 
we  stood  in  the  middle  and  coolly  talked  of  an 
American  liner,  or  some  vessel  from  the  utter- 
most ends  of  the  earth,  passing,  at  that  very 
moment  perhaps,  over  our  heads  !  A  box  was 
placed  to  receive  the  contributions  of  the  chari- 
table towards  the  support  of  those  maimed  during 
the  progress  of  the  work.  Several  lives  were 
lost  by  the  irruption  of  the  river  more  than 
once  ;  and  now  that  the  work  is  complete,  it  is 


AN    AMERICAN    LADY, 


17 


considered  more  as  a  show-place  than  of  prac- 
tical utility.  As  a  remunerating  commercial 
speculation  or  investment,  it  is  among  the  worst 
England  or  America  know.  Mr.  N.  even  pro- 
nounced it  "a  bubble  ;"  improperly,  I  afterward 
learned,  for  no  one  can  accuse  the  originators 
of  anything  but  fair  dealing;  the  Iron  Duke 
himself  is  said  to  be  a  considerable  shareholder. 
Mr.  N.  must  have  been  wrong,  therefore,  though 
he.quoted  Banquo  to  back  him  : 

"  The  earth  hath  bubbles  as  the  water  hath, 

And  this  is  of  them." 

Whether  the  Tunnel  be  subject  to  the  spirit 
of  earth  or  water  is  matter  of  debate.  You 
walk  on  what  seems  terra  firma,  but  is  beneath 
the  deep  water ;  the  Gnomes  of  the  interior 
earth  are  perhaps  the  ruling  spirits.  I  trust 
they  will  be  friendly  to  man. 

I  am  told  that  several  very  scrupulous  per- 
sons condemned  the  work  as  too  presumptuous, 
too  audacious  for  man  to  undertake.  If  it  be 
proper  to  build  or  swing  a  bridge  over  a  stream, 
why  not  to  dig  a  way  underneath  it  1  I  never 
heard  that  these  gentlemen  objected  to  cross  a 
bridge,  unless,  perhaps,  a  toll  one ;  but  you  are 
"wearied — and  so  am  I. 

Adieu ;  ever,  etc. 


LETTER  VIII. 

English  Ignorance  about  America.— Un-reading  but  prac- 
tical Men. — Impartiality  of  English  Ignorance. — Disre- 
gard ot'  Antiquities  or  sacred  Places. — A  Fire. — Pastoral 
Incendiarism. 

London, ,  1843. 

MY  DEAREST  JULIA — Truly  one  ought  to  have 
a  temper  as  imperturbable  as  Franklin's  (which 
I  need  hardly  tell  you  I  have  not)  to  hear  pa- 
tiently the  absurd  remarks  the  British  make 
-upon  the  United  States.  I  could  not  have  be- 
lieved such  ignorance  existed  :  it  must  be  that 
•well-informed  men  are  generally  less  common 
in  this  country  than  at  home.  Here  are  hun- 
dreds of  thousands,  with  ample  means  and  lei- 
sure, whose  reading  is  confined  to  the  news- 
papers ;  but  let  me  correct  the  broad  assertion, 
I  ought  to  have  said  to  certain  portions  of  cer- 
tain newspapers.  Yet  one  of  this  class  will 
-deliver  his  judgment  upon  America  in  a  manner 
which  shows  he  considers  that  what  he  says  is 
decisive  ;  there  is,  or  should  be,  no  appeal :  he 
has  spoken. 

Self-conceit  is  more  meat  and  drink  to  these 
Englishmen  than  "to  see  a  clown"  was  to 
Touchstone;  they  have  a  vague  notion  about 
America,  and  Indians,  and  General  Washington, 
and  there  being  neither  king  nor  lords,  and  the 
storming  of  Quebec,  and  the  burning  of  the 
Caroline,  and  the  loss  of  the  President !  But 
as  to  the  vast  resources  of  our  country,  the  na- 
ture of  her  laws  and  institutions,  of  her  cities 
rising  amid  primeval  forests,  of  the  capabilities 
of  her  rivers  and  bays,  of  the  love  of  freedom 
in  her  children  (which  love,  men  say,  is  the 
parent  of  all  the  best  virtues  that  can  adorn  a 
state) — of  these  things  they  know  nothing. 

Talk  to  one  of  these  persons  about  the  cotton 
grown  in  the  Southern  States,  and  he  will  im- 
mediately speak  of  Manchester,  where  he  has 
a  cousin  worth  a  hundred  thousand  pounds  (not 
dollars,  mind),  a  manufacturer  driving  a  roaring 
C 


trade  (roaring  enough,  if  the  clatter  of  a  thou- 
sand wheels  can  effect  it) ;  mention  one  of 
those  matchless  prairies  in  the  Far  West  (a  no- 
ble sight,  though  Boz  was  disappointed),  and  my 
gentleman,  as  soon  as  he  is  made  to  understand 
what  a  prairie  is,  turns  the  conversation  to  Sal- 
isbury Plain,  or  the  moors  of  Scotland  ! 

These  gentry  generally  are,  or  have  been, 
connected  with  commercial  pursuits,  and  plume 
themselves  that  they  are  not  reading,  hut  prac- 
tical men.  I  admit  they  are  impartial  in  their 
ignorance,  knowing  as  little  of  the  past  history 
of  their  own  country  as  of  the  present  state  of 
ours  ;  they  believe,  for  they  have  seen  the  post 
that  commemorates  it,  that  a  battle  was  fought 
long  ago  at  Barnet ;  that  Richard  the  Third 
was  as  hunchbacked  as  Punch,  and  was  slain 
by  the  Earl  of  Richmond's  own  hand,  for  they 
have  seen  the  play ;  that  Oliver  Cromwell  can- 
nonaded most  of  the  castles  and  abbeys  in  Eng- 
land, leaving  them  in  ruins,  which  are  to  be 
seen  to  this  day  ;  they  have  even  been  shown 
or  told  of  the  ridges  where  his  artillery  was 
planted  ;  their  faith  in  the  ballad  of  Chevy 
Chace  being  a  true  history,  and  that  Widdring- 
ton  fought  on  his  stumps,  is  never  to  be  shaken, 
for  they  were  taught  parts  of  it  when  boys  ;  to 
descend  to  later  times  and  more  familiar  char- 
acters— if  Burns  or  Sheridan  are  mentioned, 
they  are  oracular  on  the  devotion  to  the  wine- 
cup  manifested  by  both,  and  more  than  hint  at 
their  own  superiority  !  That  the  Scottish  *ard 
and  the  Irish  orator  were  boon-companions,  is 
nearly  all  these  Sir  Oracles  know  about  them  : 
such  men  love  to  dilate  on  the  infirmities 
of  genius  as  far  as  their  knowledge  of  them 
extends,  for 

"  Folly  loves  the  martyrdom  of  fame." 
I  once  heard  a  man  of  this  stamp  say  it  was 
well  known  that  Junius  was  a  lord-mayor  of 
London.  I  was  not  at  all  surprised  at  the 
statement,  but  I  was,  that  the  gentleman  knew 
there  had  been  a  Junius  at  all ! 

In  the  learned  professions,  undoubtedly,  are 
very  many  men  of  vast  literary  attainments, 
and,  what  is  more,  they  make  no  display ;  but 
this  very  forbearance  encourages  the  ignorant 
man  to  prate  of  his  ignorance. 

Another  discreditable  feeling  is  rife  in  Eng- 
land generally,  perhaps,  but  most  assuredly  and 
especially  London  :  the  irreverence  for  places 
that  have  been  the  scenes  of  great  events,  or 
for  houses,  the  abodes  of  men  who  have  left  an 
undying  name.  Had  Shakspeare's  house  been 
in  London  instead  of  Stratford,  it  might  long 
since  have  been  pulled  down  to  give  place  to 
some  petty  improvement ;  the  conqueror  of 
old 

"  Bid  spare 

The  house  of  Pindarus,  when  temple  and  tower 
Went  to  the  ground." 

But  the  callousness  of  the  Englishman  bids 
spare  no  place. 

London  has  the  appearance  of  anything  rath- 
er than  an  old  city — it  looks  modern  enough  for 
an  American  one;  there  are  not  many  places  to 
call  forth  veneration,  or  awaken  historical  as- 
sociations of  a  remote  era;  Westminster  Ab- 
bey and  Hall,  the  Tower,  Lambeth  Palace,  St. 
Saviour's  Church  in  Southwark,  the  Temple 
Church,  must  be  nearly  all.  Part  of  this  is  no 
doubt  owing  to  the  Great  Fire  in  1666,  but  far 


IS 


LETTERS   FROM 


more  to  later  innovations.  I  am  aware  that  it 
is  sometimes  impossible  to  preserve  the  relics 
of  other  ages,  but  the  English  do  not  care 
whether  they  are  preserved  or  not.  Whether  a 
house  was  occupied  by  John  Milton  or  John 
Doe,  is  to  them  a  matter  of  perfect  indifference. 
A  far  better  feeling  prevails  in  Scotland ;  which 
the  English  laugh  at,  and  impute  to  the  inhabi- 
tants of  Northern  Britain  as  a  fault,  calling  it 
nationality  !  Had  these  people  dwelt  in  Rome 
for  the  last  three  centuries,  how  they  would 
"have  dealt  upon  the  seven-hill'd  city's  pride!" 
What  havoc  they  would  have  carried  as  they  let 
slip  the  dogs  of  improvement !  Wo  to  the  Co- 
liseum's might !  Wo  to  the  Arches  and  the 
Temples  !  The  Lunatic  Asylums  in  every  coun- 
try in  'Europe  would  have  been  crowded  with 
antiquaries  driven  mad.  The  world  may  re- 
joice the  modern  Romans  are  not  as  the  Eng- 
lish. 

Do  not  suppose  these  continually-occurring 
improvements  have  made  London  at  all  ap- 
proach the  character  Boz  gives  Philadelphia, 
"  distractingly  regular ;"  but  it  is  sufficiently  so 
for  every  purpose  of  convenience  or  even  beauty. 

Fires,  alas  !  give  us  too  many  opportunities  to 
build  new  buildings  in  New- York.  They  are 
far  less  frequent  in  London.  In  the  winter, 
when  I  was  on  a  visit  at  Mr.  D.'s,  we  were 
aroused  by  the  alarm  of  fire  early  one  morning ; 
it  was  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  street.  How 
the  CBDWd  enjoyed  it ;  how  they  speculated  on 
the  probability  of  the  next  house,  and  the  next, 
adding  to  the  blaze !  When  the  flames  illu- 
mined the  street,  the  upturned  countenances 
showed  horribly  grim.  I  saw  one  old  crone,  as 
snow  began  to  fall,  put  up  her  umbrella  for  shel- 
ter, that  she  might  enjoy  the  sight  comfortably ; 
the  wind  conveyed  some  of  the  hot  ashes  to  the 
expanded  gingham  and  ignited  it ;  the  hapless 
woman  seemed"  to  think  it  a  hard  fortune  that 
she  must  be  exposed  to  one  of  the  antagonist 
elements.  The  firemen  succeeded  in  getting 
the  fire  under,  but  not  until  it  had  destroyed 
two  houses ;  these  men  form  a  brigade,  wear  a 
suitable  dress,  and  act  under  the  orders  of  su- 
perintendents ;  their  activity  was  worthy  of  all 
praise,  and  on  many  accounts  I  think  such  a 
body  would  be  valuable  in  New- York,  however 
well  it  may  sound  that  help  is  given  in  a  public 
calamity  of  so  fearful  a  nature  by  the  exertions 
of  the  citizens,  and  not  of  hirelings. 

Mr.  Dickens  says  that  sometimes  fires  are 
"  not  wholly  accidental  in  New- York ;"  his 
countrymen,  also,  can  speculate  in  arson,  and 
we  have  had  nothing  at  home  so  horrible  as  the 
incendiary  fires  in  the  rural  districts  of  England. 
The  agricultural  population  is  often  pronounced 
the  healthiest  in  Great  Britain,  but  these  fires 
show  a  sad  demoralization  among  them.  Many 
an  honest  farmer  has  retired  to  rest,  and  hail 
his  slumbers  broken,  not  by  "  the  cock's  shrill 
clarion  or  the  echoing  horn,"  but  by  the  red 
glare  of  his  burning  corn-ricks.  Cowper  be- 
wailed the  decay  of  rural  virtues  and  manners 
in  his  day — what  would  he  have  said  now] 
The  hinds  even  called  science  to  their  aid,  and 
corn  and  hay-stacks  have  been  ignited  by  chem- 
ical appliances — most  horrible  ! 

I  cannot  but  marvel  at  the  apathy  with  which 
all  these  symptoms  are  regarded ;  men  seem  to 
think  far  more  of  the  punishment  of  the  criminal 


than  the  prevention  of  the  crime.  The  wealthy 
Londoner  reads  of  blazing  farmyards,  of  shriek- 
ing horses  dragged  from  their  stalls,  and  cattle 
so  scorched  that  in  mercy  they  were  killed  ;  but 
as  the  danger  is  not  at  his  very  door,  he  cares 
as  little  about  it  as  if  it  had  been  a  part  of  the 
"  Foreign  intelligence"  in  his  newspaper.  His 
self-conceit  encases  him  like  armour,  render- 
ing him  invulnerable  to  all  attacks  of  pity ;  he 
cannot  conceive  any  one  daring  enough  to  in- 
jure Aw  property,  so  coolly  stirs  his  fire,  won- 
dering if  the  farmer  fellow  will  be  ruined,  or 
which  of  the  ensurance  offices  will  suffer ! 
After-historians  may  note,  and  account  for  this 
savage  novelty  in  crime — crime  that  can  by  no 
possibility  profit  its  perpetrator,  crime  originated 
by  revenge  alone — pastoral  revenge,  too — sad 
and  strange  anomaly  !  I  am  told  there  are  sev- 
eral amateurs  in  fires  in  London,  who  always 
attend,  if  they  possibly  can,  to  criticise  the  ex- 
hibitions ! 

Do  you  know,  Julia,  I  think  I  have  better  op- 
portunities to  observe  the  English  as  they  are 
than  almost  any  other  American  1  for  my  Euro- 
pean education  and  my  abode  in  this  country 
have  rendered  me  to  all  appearance  insular,  but 
my  heart  and  aspirations  are  all  American. 

One  of  my  solicitors,  like  Tom  Clarke  in  the 
story,  "  a  young  fellow  whose  goodness  of 
heart  even  the  exercise  of  his  profession  had 
not  been  able  to  corrupt,"  yesterday  assured  me 
that  I  could  not  be  taken  for  anything  but  aa 
English  lady.  He  intended  it  for  a  compliment, 
and  his  pretty  (but  always  ill-dressed)  wife  sim- 
pered affirmatively.-  I  admire  Mr.  N.  in  his 
own  home,  when  he  relaxes  from  his  legal  toils 
and  shines  as  a  punster  ;  he  even  jokes  over  his 
rubber  at  whist,  and  could  not  enjoy  his  wine 
unseasoned  with  a  jest.  An  excellent  maker 
and  expounder  of  conundrums,  towards  which 
accomplishment  he  says  the  study  of  the  law  is 
conducive,  it  being  one  huge  puzzle  !  To  crowa 
all,  he  is  a  most  worthy  and  prosperous  gentle- 
man. 

Boz  tells  of  "justice  retired  from  business 
for  want  of  customers"  in  America  ;  this  is  not 
likely  to  occur,  Mr.  N.  says,  in  England,  and, 
indeed,  they  are  continually  creating  new  courts 
and  new  magistrates — new  schools,  in  my  poor 
mind,  would  be  a  wiser  and  better  procedure. 
Cincinnati  furnishes  most  honourable  example, 
where   "  no  person's  child  can  by  possibility  . 
want  the  means  of  education."    Mr.  Dickens  • 
should  school  his  countrymen  on  this  head  :  he  | 
advises  the  Americans  to  abolish  slavery,  let  I 
him  tell  the  English  to  expel  ignorance. 

Adieu ;  ever,  etc. 


LETTER  IX. 

Westminster  Abbey.— Not  safe  to  admit  the  Public.— Mon- 
uments and  Tombs.— Westminster  Hull.— Houses  of 
Parliament. — Members. — Monomania. — George  III.  ru.'i 
Johnson. — Bleatings  in  the  Home  of  Commons. — Pom- 
pey  the  Negro. 

London, ,  1843. 

MY  DEAREST  JULIA — Come  with  me  to  West- 
minster Abbey,  to  the  tombs  of  the  great,  "  ve- 
nez  voir  le  peu  qui  nous  reste  de  tant  de  gran- 
deur." Enter  Poets'  Corner,  and  gaze  upon  the 
first  inscription,  "O  rare  Ben  Jonson!"  and 


AN  AMERICAN  LADY. 


here  are,  the  monuments  to  the  great  and  good, 
here  are  names  unsurpassed  in  the  world's  long 
catalogue— Shakspeare,  Milton,  Dryden  ;  but  I 
cannot  go  through  the  list.  The  late  Dean  of 
Westminster  refused  to  allow  the  erection  of 
Lord  Byron's  statue  in  the  Abbey  ;  a  very  fine 
statue  or  bust,  I  forget  which,  by  Thorwaldsen, 
now  lies,  I  am  told,  at  the  Custom-house.  Did 
Christianity  require  this  1  Monuments  to  Mat- 
thew Prior  and  Thomas  Shadwell  are  in  Poets' 
Corner;  in  consistency  they  ought  to  be  re- 
moved. Things  are  reversed ;  the  successful 
poets  of  England,  in  modern  times,  gain  bread 
enough,  but  the  greatest  of  them  all  is  refused  a 
stone ! 

It  would  be  invidious  to  point  out  the  monu- 
ments of  others  to  whom  Dr.  Ireland  must  have 
demurred  had  he  been  then  in  office.  The  fees 
of  admittance  to  view  the  Abbey  are  now  great- 
ly reduced*,  but  you  must  go  round  with  the 
guide  and  see  all  by  rote.  I  was  told  this  morn- 
ing that  many  contend  it  is  impolitic  to  open 
abbeys  and  churches  to  the  public,  because  the 
monuments  would  be  mutilated  or  scribbled  on  ! 
What,  this  in  civilized  England — this  in  the 
country  that  thinks  it  could  improve  our  man- 
ners and  tastes !  Oh !  tell  it  not  in  Gath,  whis- 
per it  not  in  the  streets  beyond  the  Atlantic  ! 
Surely  it  is  a  dream,  or  they  do  but  droll.  It  is 
not  the  Englishman  of  1843  who  is  spoken  of — 
and  in  London !  No ;  it  is  the  image-hating 
followers  of  John  Knox  in  Scotland,  or  the  stern 
Puritan  of  Cromwell's  days  in  old  St.  Paul's ; 
or  'tis  Paris,  and  the  ruthless  destroyers  of  the 
French  Revolution,  the  disciples  of  Marat  or 
Collot  d'Herbois,  "  the  men  without  a  God  !" 

You  have  not  to  be  told  that  there  are  a  great 
many  monuments  erected  to  poets,  sages,  and 
heroes  not  buried  in  Westminster.  All  that 
could  die  of  Shakspeare  lies  at  Stratford-on- 
Avon ;  Milton  was  interred  at  St.  Giles's  Crip- 
plegate,  a  church  at  the  other  extremity  of  Lon- 
don ;  Thomson,  at  Richmond  ;  Goldsmith  in  the 
burial-ground  of  the  Temple  Church.  But,  to 
say  nothing  of  kings  or  nobles,  Pitt,  and  Fox, 
and  Sheridan,  and  Grattan,  and  others  are  bu- 
ried in  the  sacred  precincts  of  the  Abbey  ;  and 
one  may  ponder  on  the  wisdom,  and  learning, 
and  patriotism,  that  sleep  with  those  who  sleep 
below.  It  were  something  to  be  allowed  to 
muse  over  such  graves,  and  to  commune  with 
one's  self  at  will ;  but  to  be  under  the  direction 
of  a  showman !  Out  on  the  narrow-mindedness 
of  those  in  high  places  ! 

There  are  a  very  great  number  of  monuments ; 
and  really,  were  it  not  partaking  too  much  of 
levity  or  profaneness  for  a  lady's  pen,  Pope's 
couplet  on  the  worms  in  amber  might  be  applied 
to  many  of  the  names.  There  is  a  monument 
to  Major  Andre,  which  was  not  erected  until 
forty  years  after  his  death. 

The  Americans  as  well  as  the  British  may 
feel  ennobled  in  Westminster,  for  there  are  the 
great  names  of  a  common  ancestry ;  the  war- 
riors who  made  British  valour  felt ;  the  poets 
and  philosophers  who  gave  undying  lustre  to 

/the  language  long  before  misrule  made  America 
with  unfaltering  voice  exclaim,  "  I  will  be  free." 
Chaucer,  and  Spenser,  and  Barrow.and  Addison, 
and  Newton,  are  ours  as  well  as  England's. 

Westminster  Hall  is  opposite  the  abbey,  a 
vide  road  dividing  them.  You  enter  from  a 


19 

spacious,  opening  called  Palace  Yard ;  a  noble 
hall  it  is  ;  and  the  scene  of  coronation  splen- 
dours. Into  this  hall,  in  the  midst  of  the  crown- 
ing festival,  rode  an  armed  champion,  who  flung 
down  a  gantlet  challenging  to  single  combat 
any  one  who  denied  to  the  fourth  George  the 
rightful  sovereignty  of  his  realms.  Such  denial 
would  have  been  treasonable ;  and  treason  is 
unsparingly  punished.  The  champion's  horse 
was  hired  for  the  occasion  ;  for  the  job  the 
groom  would  call  it,  from  Astley's,  the  mounte- 
banks. There  may  be  many  in  distant  Hindos- 
tan  who  might  well  have  flung  down  a  gage  in 
denial. 

Several  of  the  courts  of  law  have  openings 
into  this  huge  hall.  We  entered  two  or  three 
(Mr.  N.  was  of  the  party) :  all  was  decorum  and 
order ;  the  counsellors  wigged  and  gowned  ;  the 
judges  also,  but  differently.  Nothing  interest- 
ing, nor  indeed  intelligible  to  me,  was  under 
discussion,  and  courts  are  not  places  I  care  to 
visit.  I  am  told,  by-the-way,  that  many  ladies 
of  rank  are  fond  of  being  present  at  the  trials 
of  murderers;  they  go  for  a  sensation,  I  sup- 
pose ;  the  opera  palls  in  time — its  murders  are 
only  simulated. 

Between  four  and  five  o'clock  the  same  even- 
ing we  saw  the  members  of  the  two  houses  of 
Parliament  arrive ;  both  chambers  are  in  the 
precincts  of  Westminster  hall,  places  tempo- 
rarily fitted  up  since  the  fire.  The  Duke  of  Wel- 
lington came  on  horseback ;  he  is  best  known 
as  "  the  Duke  ;"  and  when  "  the  Duke"  is  men- 
tioned, no  one  thinks  of  asking  what  duke  ?  In 
the  same  way,  I  am  told,  when  "  the  Admiral" 
is  mentioned,  in  many  parts  of  what  was  once 
Spanish  America,  Columbus  is  always  under- 
stood. The  old  Generalissimo's  bearing  is  erect 
and  soldierly,  his  hair  perfectly  white  ;  I  knew 
him  at  a  glance ;  the  very  caricatures  are  like 
him ;  the  few  gentlemen  present  took  off  their 
hats,  and  the  Duke  returned  the  courtesy  by 
lifting  his  right  fore-finger  to  the  rim  of  his  hat ; 
he  dismounted,  I  thought,  with  some  difficulty, 
but  his  groom  offered  no  assistance.  I  believe 
the  veteran  warrior  is  unwilling  to  be  beaten 
even  by  old  age.  "Aweel,"  said  a  young 
Scotchman  near  us,  "  he's  worth  seein'  ony 
how."'  I  was  very  glad  I  saw  him  so  well ;  he 
is  an  important  part  of  the  world's  history.  I 
have  frequently  seen  him  since. 

Lord  Lyndhurst  has  a  countenance  of  singular 
shrewdness.  Lord  Brougham  walked  to  the 
house.  I  expected  to  have  seen  a  much  plainer 
man  ;  but  he  was  plainly  enough  dressed.  O'Con- 
nell  is  a  man  of  massive  mould,  with  a  strongly- 
featured  Irish  face,  betokening  no  little  humour. 
Sir  Robert  Peel  is  a  portly  gentleman,  with 
nothing,  it  seemed  to  me,  very  marked  in  his 
countenance  or  appearance ;  he  looked  grave, 
and,  Mr.  N.  said,  was  usually  solemn  and  staid 
in  his  official  demeanour.  Pope  on  Walpole 
was  quoted  to  prove  this  ;  but  then  Mr.  N.  is 
a  keen  partisan  on  the  opposite  side  ;  he  had 
lately  been  one  of  a  deputation  to  the  Premier— 

"See  Sir  Robert?    Hum, 
And  never  smile  for  all  my  life  to  come. 
Seen  him  I  have." 

Mr.  N.  quoted  no  farther.  Lord  John  Russell 
is  of  short  stature,  and  has  not  the  look  of  a 
high-souled  minister  of  state.  One  of  the  most 
remarkable  of  those  we  saw  was  Sir  Francis 


LETTERS    FROM 


Burdett ;  his  hair  is  also  perfectly  white ;  his 
dress  that  of  forty  years  ago  (I  never  could  de- 
scribe gentlemen's  dresses),  and  he  looked  a 
perfect  gentleman  of  the  old  school.  I  could 
not  learn  the  name  of  one  extraordinary-looking 
member,  splendid  in  garb,  and  mincing  in  gait ; 
he  took  off  his  hat  as  he  accosted  some  ladies 
waiting  in  a  carriage  hard  by,  and  the  wind 
"shook  thousand  odours"  from  his  flowing  hair. 
Mr.  Macaulay  is  short  and  stout ;  his  form  seems 
as  firmly  built  as  his  fame.  Many  were  so  young. 

On  the  whole,  the  members  were  fine-looking 
men,  though  some  were  of  very  ordinary  mien  ; 
countenances  marked  by  nothing,  except  in  one 
or  two  instances  by  the  smallpox.  We  noted 
how  plainly  most  of  the  peers  were  dressed — 
finery  is  for  an  inferior  grade — the  magic  words 
•"my  Lord"  would,  I  believe,  command  an  Eng- 
lishman's deference,  if"  his  Lordship"  thought 
proper  to  wear  his  own  livery,  shoulder-knots 
and  all. 

Mr.  Dickens  tells  of  monomania  in  America, 
in  a  man  imprisoned  for  two  years  for  stealing 
a  copper  vessel  containing  liquor,  and  at  the  ex- 
piration of  the  term,  going  back  to  the  same 
distillers  and  stealing  the  same  measure,  with 
the  same  quantity  of  liquor !  Monomania  in 
this  country  knows  a  more  horrid  bent.  The 
monarchies  of  France  and  Great  Britain  nurse 
strange  spirits  in  their  bosoms. 

You  need  not  fear  for  my  republican  ortho- 
doxy. I  am  not  likely  to  fall  in  love  with  mon- 
archy, and  cannot  understand  how  some  of 
these  European  people  have  been  dazzled  by 
mere  contact  with  a  monarch.  I  can  account 
for  it,  where  the  sovereign  is  amiable,  fair,  and 
gracious,  like  Queen  Victoria  ;  or  a  mighty  con- 
queror, with  intellect  on  his  massive  brow,  like 
Napoleon ;  but  take,  for  example,  Johnson's 
interview  with  Ge'orge  the  Third.  Though  the 
Doctor  did  write  virulent  pamphlets  against 
American  independence,  he  is  not  an  unpopular 
author  among  us.  Well :  he  encounters  George 
the  Third  in  the  palace  library  ;  the  King  asks 
a  few  questions  about  the  two  Universities ; 
two  controversialists — Warburton  and  South  ; 
two  reviews — the  Monthly  and  the  Critical ;  and 
pays  the  lexicographer  a  very  commonplace 
compliment :  the  King  withdraws,  and  the  Co- 
lossus of  English  literature  forthwith  pronounces 
him  as  fine  a  gentleman  as  Louis  the  Fourteenth 
or  Charles  the  Second  !  The  homely  domestic 
agricultural  George  compared  to  Louis  le  Grand, 
or  to  the  wittiest,  most  engaging,  and  most  prof- 
ligate of  Britain's  kings !  Are  we  to  under- 
stand that  a  fondness  for  boiled  mutton  and 
broad  farce  are  the  principal  elements  in  the 
composition  of  a  fine  gentleman?  If  Johnson 
be  right,  how  very  wrong  every  one  else  must 
be. 

Ladies  in  gallant  England  are  not  admitted 
to  the  debates  in  the  houses  of  Parliament — 
nor  is  any  one  without  a  written  order  from  a 
member.  The  very  reporters  attend  in  direct 
violation  of  one  of  the  standing  orders  of  the 
House.  I  asked  Mr.  N.  why,  since  it  is  im- 
possible to  exclude  reporters,  this  order  was 
not  rescinded.  He  told  me  it  was  retained  as 
an  excellent  exemplification  of  what  logicians 
call  a  non  sa/uitur.  I  do  not  affect  to  under- 
stand this  reason,  and  suppose  Mr.  N.  spoke 
jestingly.  Did  this  parliamentary  knot,  tied 


ebate.  And  if 
I  will  not  say 
improvement ; 


every  session  and  untied  every  night,  exist  in 
an  Irish  parliament,  if  there  were  one,  it  would 
be  cited  as  a  proof  of  the  blunderingness  of  the 
people. 

It  has  been  urged  that  were  there  a  gallery  of 
ladies,  the  speeches  of  the  younger  members 
would  be  addressed  to  their  fair  audience,  rather 
than  to  the  subject-matter  of  debate.  And  if 
they  were,  what  would  be  lost] 
that  any  alteration  would  be  an 
but  anything  that  would  draw  an  Englishman 
from  that  centralization  of  self,  so  characteristic 
of  him,  must  be  an  improvement.  Abstract 
patriotism  is  not  of  our  times.  Why  not  speak 
to  a  gallery  of  ladies  as  well  as  one  of  reporters  ! 
for  to  the  gentlemen  of  the  press  are  speeches 
delivered,  and  the  orator  next  morning  "lives 
o'er  again  the  happy  hour"  of  his  declamation, 
with  all  its  "  hears,  hears,"  "  cheers,"  and 
"  laughter." 

You  cannot  expect  me  to  give  you  a  charac- 
ter of  the  present  parliamentary  oratory ;  but 
surely  it  must  be  admitted  that  there  is  no  com- 
parison between  the  rhetorical  genius  of  the 
present  time  and  of  that  which  knew  Edmund 
Burke  and  his  compeers.  Ah  !  "  there  were 
giants  in  those  days."  The  English  have  de- 
bates now— they  had  eloquence  then. 

Of  late,  when  the  speechifying  encroaches 
upon  the  morning,  the  members  (who  can  won- 
der 7)  grow  full  weary,  and  give  their  impatience 
words — no,  not  words,  but  yells  and  imitations 
of  dogs,  birds,  and  sheep  ;  there  are  many  coun- 
try gentlemen  in  the  House  whose  talk  is  of 
oxen,  and  some,  it  may  be,  who  are  skilful  in 
imitating  their  lowings.  You  remember  our 
Negro  Pompey,  with  his  powers  of  mimicry. 
How  he  used  to  make  us  shudder,  when  he 
buzzed  like  a  moscheto  in  the  hall ;  how  he 
could  emulate  the  chirping  of  a  whole  flock  of 
Kittydids  and  Kittydidn'ts,  or  eVen  the  melody 
of  a  froggery — 

"  As  plaintive  lambkin  now  he  bleats,  and  now 
He  gently  whimpers  like  a  lowing  cow." 

What  an  acquisition  he  would  he  to  the  House 
of  Commons !  "  The  applause  of  listening  sen- 
ates to  command"  would  induce  Pompey  to 
put  forth  all  his  powers ;  he  would  be  quite 
super-natural. 

The  length  of  some  of  the  speeches  in  Parlia- 
ment seems  to  me  very  impolitic  ;  he  cannot  be 
an  accomplished  debater  who  requires  more  than 
an  hour  to  deliver  his  sentiments  or  arguments. 
To  go  into  a  long  historical  or  statistical  detail 
is  a  poor  compliment  to  the  intelligence  of  the 
members,  who  ought  not  to  need  such  informa- 
tion. I  am  always  tempted  to  conclude  that  a 
very  long  speech  contains  very  thin  matter ;  it 
must  be  beaten  during  the  lengthy  process  into 
such  tenuity ;  a  few  grains  of  oratorical  gold 
would  be  better  than  all  this  gold  leaf;  official 
statements  may  no  doubt  form  exceptions. 

The  new  Houses  of  Parliament  are  in  course 
of  erection  close  to  the  river  ;  they  will  form  a 
fine  object  from  it,  as  well  as  from  Westminster 
Bridge.  The  officers  and  doorkeepers  of  the 
Houses  of  Parliament  are  said  to  surpass  all 
other  public  officers  in  consequential  bearing, 
jack-in-office-ism.  If  they  do,  they  must  be  so 
sublime  in  their  incivility  as  to  be  akin  to  prodi- 


gies. 


I  admire  the  wondrous  skill  of  the  London  re- 


AN   AMERICAN   LADY. 


porters ;  they  not  only  give  what  was  said,  but 
the  words  come  mended  from  their  pens,  a  sort 
of  typographical  alchemy.  I  attended  a  meet- 
ing at  Exeter  Hall  once,  and  read  the  report  next 
morning  with  unmixed  surprise.  I  have  often 
heard  that  if  all  the  speeches  in  Parliament  were 
printed  word  for  word,  very  few  would  read 
them  ;  very  few  read  them  now,  being  satisfied 
with  the  clever  summary  in  the  journals.  Peo- 
ple hear  how  eloquent  Lord  P.,  or  Lord  S.,  or 
Sir  II.,  or  Mr.  M.  were,  and  are  contented  to 
take  it  upon  trust.  Lord  Morpeth,  who  has 
lately  returned  from  America,  and  has  not  writ- 
ten a  book  to  repay  hospitality  with  satire  (un- 
accustomed forbearance  !),  is  not  in  this  Parlia- 
ment. His  sister,  the  Duchess  of  Sutherland, 
is  one  of  the  leading  beauties  of  Queen  Victoria's 
Court,  although  she  is  not  now  one  of  the  house- 
hold. The  duke  is  one  of  the  many  in  England 
enormously  rich.  But  alas  !  for  mortal  fingers, 
even  when  writing  of  ladies,  and  courts,  and 
parliaments,  they  weary  as  readily  as  if  the 
topic  was  of  beings  of  ordinary  humanity.  I 
do  believe  as  readily  as  if  the  letter  were  a 
transcript  of  old  family  recipes,  "  how  to  make  a 
tansy  pudding,"  or  how  to  dress  the  dish  which 
called  forth  the  execration  of  Mario w  and  Has- 
tings, "a  pig  with  prune  sauce." 

I  feel  sleepy  too,  for  it  is  late,  and  when  I 
have  closed  my  letter  I  think  nothing  could  keep 
me  half  an  hour  awake  :  not  the  best  scene  in 
Cooper's  best  novel ;  not  the  rich,  quiet  humour 
of  our  own  Rip  Van  Winkle.  How  the  poor 
chief  of  the  Choctaw  Indians  mistook,  when  he 
complimented  Boz  on  the  skill  with  which  he 
could  portray  the  red  men  of  the  forest  if  he 
thought  fit  to  attempt  it !  I  hope,  and  indeed 
feel  sure,  Mr.  Dickens  will  not ;  he  would  cock- 
neyise  them.  Ever,  etc. 


LETTER  X. 

London  and  American  Dirt. — Chairs. — Dinner  Parties. — 
Music.  —  Aristocratic  Literature.  —  Young  Ladies. — 
Much  in  Manner.  —  Superficial  Knowledge.— Clubs.— 
Frolics  of  Aristocracy. — Fire-Grates. — What  a  Guy ! 

London, ,  1843. 

DEAREST  JULIA — I  am  weather-bound  ;  that 
is,  confined  to  the  house  by  the  rainy,  gusty 
weather ;  the  barometer  here  is  as  fluctuating 
as  the  resolutions  of  a  flirt.  There  is  an  ad- 
hesive quality  in  London  dirt  that  is  peculiarly 
metropolitan.  Constant  friction  and  grinding 
work  up  the  mud  of  the  streets  into  a  paste;  it 
may  be  safely  warranted  to  stick  beyond  seal- 
ing-wax ;  a  few  splashes  as  you  get  in  or  out 
of  a  carriage  may  be  fatal  to  the  well-being  of  a 
dress.  This  mud  is  soon  removed  from  the 
streets — the  scavenger-police,  if  I  may  use  the 
word,  is  efficient — so  that  one  has  no  oppor- 
tunity of  inspecting  very  antiquated  miriness, 
such  as  that  at  Lowell,  which,  according  to 
Boz,  "  might  have  been  deposited  at  the  subsid- 
ing of  the  waters  after  the  deluge  ;"  this  old  mud 
in  the  New  World  should  be  looked  to  by  geolo- 
gists ;  a  scientific  analysis  of  it  would  be  valu- 
able in  an  appendix  to  the  next  edition  of  the 
American  Notes — the  curious  in  dirts  would  be 
gratified. 

As  I  am  confined  to  the  house,  I  may  as  well 
write  of  house  matters.  The  furniture  of  Lon- 
don rooms  is  very  similar  to  New-York  apart- 


ments ;  more  crowded,  perhaps,  while  more 
precautions  are  taken  to  fence  out  cold  than 
to  mitigate  heat.  There  are  no  rocking-chairs 
— some,  I  hear,  at  Liverpool — but  every  form  of 
easy-chair  that  ingenuity  can  devise,  or  wealth 
and  luxury  can  command  ;  some  of  silk  moreen, 
some  of  scented  morocco  leather,  and  with  cush- 
ions, and  springs,  and  arms,  and  everything  to 
invite  repose.  In  one  of  these  pleasant  cubicles 
beware  what  book  you  peruse,  for  if  there  be 
aught  of  dulness  the  lines  soon  dance  before 
the  eyes,  and  slumber  relieves  stupidity  ;  nam- 
by-pamby poets  are  an  unfailing  soporific :  one 
must  nod 

"  While  they  ring  round  the  same  unvaried  chimes,. 
With  sure  returns  of  still  expected  rhymes  ; 

If  crystal  streams  '  with  pleasing  murmurs  creep,' 
The  reader's  threaten'd  (not  in  vain)  with  'sleep.'" 

In  dinner  parties  the  display  of  napery,  glass, 
and  plate  is  magnificent.  I  have  heard  that 
plate  is  frequently  hired  for  the  occasion.  The 
custom  of  taking  wine  with  any  of  the  party  at 
dinner  seems  falling  into  desuetude  ;  pity,  for  it 
was  a  kindly  custom ;  but  perhaps  not  pleasant 
to  the  modern  Englishman :  it  takes  him  too> 
much  out  of  himself ;  it  is  too  elaborate  a  cour- 
tesy for  him.  The  English  are  certainly  hospi- 
table (a  very  large  class  excepted)  ;  but  there  is- 
too  much  display  in  their  hospitality ;  it  is  too- 
much  a  thing  for  parade  and  newspaper  para- 
graphs. The  cookery  seems  the  same  as  it  is 
in  the  best  houses  with  us — principally  French. 
In  some  few  dishes  we  have  the  advantage ; 
the  English  can  have  no  wild  turkey,  they  have 
not  the  variety  of  game  found  in  our  forests  -r 
the  fish  is  less  delicious ;  the  ices,  fruits,  and 
sweetmeats  less  abundant,  but  better  in  their 
arrangement.  To  be  sure,  I  have  been  at  par- 
ties in  July,  where  ices  were  not  needed ;  the 
reserve  of  the  company  was  chill  enough.  The 
ladies  only  cared  to  talk  to  the  gentlemen,  while 
the  gentlemen  sighed  for  their  clubs.  Some 
daring  spirit  ventures  on  a  repartee,  which  is 
received  as  if  it  were  a  personal  insult  to  the 
slow-witted  company.  The  wine  in  time,  per- 
haps, expels  this  restraint,  and  conversation 
flows  freely  with  the  sparkling  vintages  of 
France. 

The  talk  is,  of  routs,  balls,  and  operas,  much  ; 
of  scandal,  somewhat ;  of  literature,  a  little  ;  of 
music,  much.  It  is  the  fashion  to  assume  a  pas- 
sionate fondness  for  music.  Years  were  wasted 

to  make  the  pretty  Helen musical,  because 

her  father  was  rich  and  an  M.  P.,  and  her  mam- 
ma gave  concerts,  and  had  an  opera-box  in  the 
best  part  of  the  house,  and  several  middle-aged 
peers,  and  eldest  sons,  and  youthful  baronets, 
are  known  to  be  distractingly  or  distractedly — 
I  don't  know  which  is  the  proper  word — fond  of 
music ;  poor  Helen  laboured  painfully  on,  she 
had  no  ear ;  all  the  paternal  wealth  and  mater- 
nal fashion  could  not  procure  a  new  one ;  she 
never  played  in  tune  ;  "  panting  time  toiled  after 
her  in  vain  ;"  and  nature  in  the  long  run  had  the 
best  of  it :  her  music-books  were  closed,  and 
Helen's  harp  is  now  as  silent  as  King  David's- 
The  young  lady,  as  you  will  readily  conclude 
from  your  knowledge  of  the  family,  had  capacity 
to  learn  anything  else  ;  but  the  precious  and  ir- 
revocable opportunities  of  youth  were  thua 
grievously  wasted. 


LETTERS    FROM 


Literature,  it  must  be  admitted,  is  eagerlj 
pursued  by  many  of  the  aristocracy — titled  poet- 
esses, and  poets,  and  novelists,  and  dramatists 
and  historians,  are  as  plenty  as  blackberries 
and  often  as  insipid  ;  many  of  the  productions 
are  light  and  elegant ;  but  somehow  or  other 
they  soon  float  out  of  memory,  perhaps  because 
they  are  so  light ;  there  are  many  illustrious  ex 
ceptions,  however :  many  who  stand  far  in  ad- 
vance of  "  the  mob  of  gentlemen  who  write 
with  ease." 

How  much  there  is  in  manner.  I  have  seen 
young  ladies  at  a  dinner-table  listen  with  pleased 
and  eager  looks  to  voluble  (and  eligible)  gentle- 
men, as  if  they  were  as  familiar  with  the  sub- 
ject as  with  the  mazes  of  the  quadrille,  and  be 
as  ignorant  of  it  the  while  as  of  the  Sioux  dia- 
lect. Once  upon  a  time — to  begin  my  story 
with  an  orthodox  beginning — a  young  lady  of 
this  well-trained  class  was  listening  to  an  East 
India  officer  of  high  rank,  and  timed  her  "  Dear 
mes,"  and  "  Well,  sirs,"  admirably— the  East 
Indian,  who  was  very  prosy,  thought  he  had  a 
most  intelligent  auditress.  "  Well,  after  this 
strange  adventure,  as  I  entered  the  tent,  I  heard 
Sheer  Singh,  who — "  "  Pray,"  interrupted  the 
pretty  debutante,  "  did  he  sing  well  ?"  The  charm 
was  dispelled ;  the  ideal,  as  Bulwer  might  say, 

merged  into  the  actual.    Miss only  looked 

intelligence ;  and  the  mention,  as  she  thought, 
of  this  Sheer  singing  threw  her  off  her  guard — 
she  expected  to  hear,  perhaps,  that  he  was  an 
Indian  Rubini. 

Mr.  E ,  of  Baltimore,  told  me  he  was  once 

conversing  with   Lady of  the  wonderful 

works  of  nature  and  art  in  the  new  and  old 
worlds — after  a  discussion  of  Niagara,  he  was 
proceeding  to  speak  of  the  Gaits  of  the  Missouri. 
"  Pray,"  said  her  ladyship,  "  are  they  of  iron 
or  wood?"  I  have  been  asked  if  New- York 
was  built  upon  the  plan  of  Old  York,  and  if  it 
had  as  fine  a  Minster.  O,  superficial  knowl- 
edge, how  many  are  thy  children !  Then  the 
way  in  which  young  ladies  here  are  taught  and 
shown  the  excellence  of  an  establishment,  and 
of  marrying  well  (that  is,  wealthily),  cannot  be 
too  much  condemned.  By-the-by,  Julia,  among 

the  many  who  visited  at  Aunt "  pour  1'a- 

mour  de  vos  beaux  yeux,"  did  not  one  Irish 
gentleman 

*     .          *  *  « 

Club  life  is  a  new  thing  in  London,  and  is 
strongly  characteristic  of  the  age.  The  club- 
houses are  very  numerous,  and  among  the  most 
splendid  in  the  metropolis.  Ladies  admire  them 
not ;  but  husbands,  fathers,  brothers,  and  woo- 
ers, will  frequent  their  clubs  ;  for  there  they  can 
be  undisturbed  and  unquestioned,  and  can  nurse 
the  selfishness  their  soul's  love.  Had  these 
places  existed  in  Thomson's  day,  their  lazy 
luxury  would  have  ensured  honourable  mention 
in  the  Castle  of  Indolence.  What  a  poem  it  is  ! 
the  perusal  makes  one  so  deliciously  drowsily 
entranced.  One  feels  half  sorry  that  the  proper 
hero  had  the  best  of  it— the 

"  Knight  of  muchel  fame. 
Of  active  mind  and  vizormn  lintyhed. 
The  Knight  of  Arts,  and  Industry  by  name." 
But  this  T*  a  digression. 

Every  luxury  is  within  the  Clubbist's  reach, 
and  at  comparatively  little  cost.  Does  a  gentle- 
man love  the  wild  excitement,  the  savage  glee 


of  gambling  1  His  club  shall  afford  him  oppor- 
tunities of  honourable  ruin.  The  old  gentleman 
can  be  sure  of  his  quiet  rubber  at  time-honoured 

whist.  Do  you  remember  how  Judge  J loved 

it,  and  the  pains  he  took  to  initiate  me  into  its 
profundities,  its  science,  and  its  tricks  ?  it  is 
shorn  of  its  beams  here,  cut  in  two,  into  a  game 
called  short  whist.  Last  night,  greatly  to  my 
surprise,  for  I  really  did  not  understand  what 
was  meant  by  half-crown  points  when  I  sat 
down,  I  won  thirty  sterling  shillings !  Are  you 
not  afraid  for  my  morals  !  My  partner  was  an 
R.A.,  nothing  under;  but  how  I  do  digress — let 
me  back  to  my  clubs,  I  mean  clubs  without 
spades,  diamonds,  or  hearts.  The  lawyer  has 
his  club,  and  the  actor  his,  and  the  literary  man 
his.  The  army  and  navy  have  several.  The 
principal  political  clubs  are  White's,  Boodle's, 
Brookes's,  the  Carlton,  and  the  Reform  ;  there 
are  others,  no  doubt.  It  is  said  a  reverend  wit, 
when  shown  the  magnificent  drawing-room  of 
the  Reform  Club,  expressed  his  admiration,  but 
declared  he  would  "  rather  have  their  room  than 
their  company."  The  coffee-house  life  of  Steele 
and  Addison's  day,  and  the  tavern-life  of  a  later 
period,  seem  unknown. 

I  have  heard  it  said  that  taken  as  a  whole, 
and  with  most  liberal  exceptions,  the  aristocracy 
of  .the  day  are  more  decorous  than  they  were  in 
the  days  of  the  third  George.  But,  on  the  other 
hand,  say  the  advocates  of  the  good  old  times, 
"f  more  decorous,  they  are  duller — what  wit, 

what  humour  is  there  in  Lord  W 's  stealing 

Mr.  Jones's  knocker,  or  Mr.  Brown's  bell-handle  1 

[n  Lord wagering  he  would,  in  a  given 

time,  exhibit  so  many  door-plates  each  engraved 

Smith,"  and  each  neatly  and  nocturnally 
wrenched  from  its  proper  d  welling-place  1  What 

s  there  in  Captain hanging  his  trophies 

n  his  room,  bell-pulls,  door-plates,  knockers, 
and  policemen's  lanterns,  all  duly  labelled  and 
dated  1  Nothing  in  all  this  but  what  any  one 
could  accomplish ;  but  there  teas  deep  skill  in 
Sir  Francis  Delaval  playing  the  conjurer  and 
"ortune- teller  in  Leicester  Fields,  and  driving 
lalf  London  wild  with  his  predictions  and  the 
;ruths  he  told  in  his  assumed  character — and  in 
Sheridan  mystifying  Madame  de  Genlis  in  a  way 
*  give  her  an  incident  for  a  romance  had  she 
so  chosen — and  in  Wilkes's  freaks  and  Fox's. 
Ah  !  we've  no  conjurors  among  the  higher  ranks 
nowadays — there's  no  humour,  no  finesse,  no 
smartness  in  modern  aristocratic  frolics — the 
age  is  degenerate. 

Which,  Julia,  do  you  prefer ;  the  brandy  of 
he  old  times,  or  the  white  wine  of  the  present ! 

"  Dear  one,  choose  between  the  two." 

This  seems  doomed  to  be  a  digressive  epistle, 
and  the  day  has  now  become  so  fine  that  I  have 
a  good  mind  to  make  another  digression — into 
he  Park;  but  I  set  out  describing  the  interior 
>f  a  London  dwelling-house.  Mr  Dickens  de- 
nurs  to  the  sleeping  apartments  in  America. 
/  think  them  superior  to  those  in  England,  for 
hey  are  larger  and  airier,  and  therefore  appear 
.o  be  more  scantly  furnished.  Mr.  Dickens 
seems  never  to  have  recollected  the  difference 
of  climate.  We  like  rooms,  and  room  to  breathe 

Pianos  are  common  in  London  rooms,  even 
n  the  houses  of  the  lees  wealthy  tradesmen  ;  it 


AN   AMERICAN   LADY. 


seems  a  necessary  piece  of  furniture  where  it  is 
not  played  upon.  I  have  seen  one  "  contrived 
a  double  debt  to  pay"— it  served  for  a  sideboard 
as  well.  The  young  man  whom  Mr.  Dickens 
met  with  in  one  of  his  favourite  and  well-de- 
scribed asylums,  and  whose  madness  was  love 
and  music,  might,  perhaps,  be  regarded  as  sane 
here— the  passion  and  the  taste  being  very  often 
assumed  in  excess,  and  no  mania  suspected. 

Great  taste  is  often  displayed  in  the  fire-grates 
in  England,  and  in  so  uncertain  and  damp  a 
climate  a  bright  fire  is  often  good  society.  No- 
thing but  coal  is  burned  in  London  ;  but  in  some 
parts  of  England  they  consume  peat  or  turf,  the 
use  of  wbich  is  common  among  the  poor  Irish. 
,1  agree  with  Mr.  Dickens  in  his  strictures  on  the 
"  suffocating  redhot  demon  of  a  stove"  in  Amer- 
ica. There  are  many  methods  here  of  warm- 
ing public  buildings  :  sometimes  by  means  of 
heated  air,  sometimes  by  improved  stoves  ;  but 
I  think  nothing  will  supersede  the  grate  in  pri- 
vate dwellings  ;  the  English  like  to  have  a  fire 
to  look  upon,  and  it  is  pleasant,  in  a  musing 
mood  at  twilight,  to  trace  strange  or  familiar 
faces  and  forms,  or  baseless  rocks  and  castles 
in  the  glowing  cinders,  while  the  mind  in  a 
waking  dream  rears  its  own  castles  in  the  air — 
more  baseless  still.  The  boarding-house  life,  so 
common  in  the  great  cities  of  America,  is  not 
known  here,  at  least  not  in  the  same  degree. 

I  forgot  to  tell  you  that  our  odd-looking  New- 
Orleans  friend,  Mr.  Walter  Guy,  has  married  a 

very  rich  Scotch  widow,  late  Mrs.  Mac ; 

the  happy  pair  are  spending  their  honeymoon 
in  London,  and  then  mean  to  "locate"  in  Edin- 
hurgh ;  he  has  given  up  tobacco  to  please  his 
hride.  All-powerful  love !  The  first  day  (in 
December)  this  gentleman  was  in  town  he  had 
an  odd  adventure.  Accompanied  by  Mr.  George, 
•who  told  me  the  tale,  he  went  to  call  upon  some 
one  near  Covent  Garden  ;  they  left  their  omni- 
bus in  the  Strand,  and  being  strangers,  of  course 
lost  themselves.  Know  that  Mr.  Walter  is  al- 
ways called  by  his  familiars  Watty  Guy;  his 
dress  on  this  occasion  was,  to  say  the  least  of 
it,  unusual — better  adapted  to  New-Orleans  heat 
than  London  cold.  I  need  hardly  tell  you  that 
"  in  form  and  moving"  he  is  not  "  express  and 
admirable." 

Know  also  that  there  is  a  custom  here  of 
carrying  about  effigies  of  Guido  Fawkes  (in 
common  parlance,  "  Guys")  every  fifth  of  No- 
vember, and  burning  them  in  commemoration 
of  the  Gunpowder  Plot ;  the  figures  are  so  gro- 
tesque that  the  boys  distinguish  any  strange- 
looking  object  as  a  "  Guy."  The  effigies  are 
formed  of  old  clothes  stuffed  with  straw,'  com- 
mon painted  masks  for  faces,  and  generally  a 
short  pipe  in  the  mouth ;  they  are  swung  to  a 
seat,  with  long  poles  attached  for  handles,  and 
so  are  borne  to  combustion :  but  to  leave  the 
plot  and  proceed  with  the  story.  Mr.  Guy  and 
his  friend  soon  found  themselves  in  a  wretched 
court,  full  of  dirty  children,  who,  as  soon  as 
they  espied  our  hero,  exclaimed  with  one  voice 
— and  the  Cockneys  rarely  aspirate  the  h  after 
the  w— "  What  a  Guy  !  What  a  Guy  !"  The 
American  stopped,  sudden  and  astounded.  His 
very  name  !  Wat-ty  Guy  !  His  ears  could  not 
have  deceived  him.  Was  it  possible  his  arrival 
had  been  announced,  and  that  his  description  had 
so  preceded  him  he  was  known  to  the  very 


children  in  London  !  The  pair  soon  gained  the 
open  street,  and  a  juvenile  sweeper  of  a  crossing, 
being  refused  a  gratuity,  cried  out,  "Twig,  Bill, 
what  a  'Guy  !  What  a  Guy  !"  Mr.  Walter 
threatened  loudly,  and  as  loudly  rose  the  de- 
risive shout,  "  What  a  Guy  !  What  a  Guy  !" 
They  passed  on,  and  a  little  farther  an  itinerant 
songster,  four  feet  high,  or  low,  took  up  the 
shout,  "What  a  Guy!"  The  patience  of  the 
American  was  exhausted,  and  he  struck  the 
little  warbler  prostrate  in  the  street.  Up  came 
a  policeman,  and  quickly  gathered  a  crowd  ;  I 
think  there  never  was  a  place  where  a  crowd 
gathers  so  rapidly,  or  for  such  trifles,  or  nothing- 
ses,  as  in  London :  however,  Mr.  George 
succeeded  in  effecting  an  adjournment  to  some 
tavern,  where  the  matter  was  explained,  and 
the  injured  youth  gladly  compromised  his  action 
for  assault,  a  sixpence  being  the  amount  at 
which  he  assessed  his  damages ;  and  so  ended 
Mr.  Walter  Guy's  first  appearance  in  London, 
and  with  his  name  my  song  shall  end. 

Ever,  etc. 


in 
Eng- 


LETTER XI. 

Short  Speech  of  the  English.—  Surprising  Ignorance 
England.  —  Apathy  of  the  Rich.  —  Beau-ideal  of  an  E 
lish  Traveller  in  the  United  States.—  English  have  little 
Love  for  their  Country.  —  Madame  Tussaud's  Wax- 
works.— Heroes.—  Murderers,  wholesale  and  retail. 

London,  -  ,  1843. 

DEAREST  JULIA  —  "  By-the-way,"  says  Mr. 
Dickens,  "  whenever  an  Englishman  would  cry 
'All  right,'  an  American  cries  'Go  a-head,' 
which  is  somewhat  expressive  of  the  national 
character  of  the  two  countries."  "  All  right," 
is  said  by  the  English  when  they  direct  a  coach 
or  anything  to  go  on  ;  if  the  words  are  taken  in 
their  proper  signification,  they  are  only  in  one 
way  applicable  to  an  Englishman  —  what  he  does 
he  considers  "  all  right,"  but  what  is  done  to 
him  generally  "  all  wrong,"  for  his  self-conceit 
convinces  him  he  is  never  sufficiently  appre- 
ciated. The  parish  orator  believes  in  his  secret 
soul  that  his  proper  arena  is  the  House  of  Com- 
mons ;  the  oracle  at  a  Mechanic's  Institute, 
that  he  ought  to  be  an  oracle  in  a  Government 
office.  It  is  this  feeling  which  makes  society 
so  much  a  thing  of  pretence.  "  Men  should  be 
what  they  seem  ;"  but  the  struggle  here  is  to 
seem  what  they  think  they  should  be. 

An  Englishman  seldom  says  "all  right,"  he 
is  too  chary  of  his  words  ;  he  says  "right."  If 
a  hackney  coachman  is  bidden  to  stop,  the  usual 
formula  being  "  hold  hard,"  it  is  merely  "  ard." 
This  elliptical  fashion  prevails  in  most  words  in 
very  common  use  —  there  is  no  specific  rule  — 
the  unhappy  word  is  sometimes  cut  off  after  its 
first  syllable,  sometimes  shortened  to  its  termi- 
nation ;  "a  cabriolet"  becomes  "a  cab,"  but  an 
omnibus  "  a  bus."  The  titles  of  periodical 
works  are  always  abbreviated  —  the  Reviews, 
Magazines,  and  Newspapers  are  simply  desig- 
nated "The  Edinburgh"  or  "Quarterly,"  "New 
Monthly,"  "  Post,"  or  "  Herald  ;"  Gentlemen 
are  often  cut  down  into  "gents"  (a  detestable 
word)  ;  Drury  Lane  and  Covent  Garden  theatres 
are  "  the  Lane"  and  "  the  Garden  ;"  the  Hospi- 
tals are  briefly  "Guy's,"  "Bartholomew's,"  etc. 
I  could  give  you  a  great  many  more  instances, 
but  it  is  needless  ;  these  people  must  consider 


LETTERS   FROM 


their  words  very  valuable  that  they  keep  so 
many  of  them  to  themselves — that  is,  in  com- 
mon or  private,  or  domestic  colloquy  ;  in  public 
they  may  be  voluble  enough,  after  the  manner 
of  men  who  speak  for  newspapers. 

I  am  more  and  more  convinced  how  little  the 
English  really  know  of  America  ;  they  view  it 
in  such  a  petty  spirit ;  judge  of  it,  in  fine,  in  the 
spirit  that  prompts  their  judgment  in  their  own 
small  matters,  their  clubs,  or  parishes,  or  corpo- 
rations. They  cannot  conceive  a  nation  without 
a  titled  and  privileged  aristocracy.  What  is  not 
subserviency  they  consider  anarchy — and  then 
a  country  without  a  regular  standing  army ! 
How  can  justice  be  administered  by  wigless 
judges?  What  but  barbarousness  can  exist 
where  poor  men  object  to  wear  liveries  !  Then 
comes  a  summing  up  of  American  enormities  ; 
they  sit  in  a  manner  the  English  do  not,  conse- 
quently the  American  way  must  be  wrong.  Vast 
distance,  different  customs  and  institutions,  have 
caused  a  diversity  of  language,  therefore  the 
American  language  must  be  low  ;  the  Americans 
grow  and  chew  tobacco,  and  the  necessary  con- 
sequences are  attributed  to  them  as  a  national 
dishonour  ! 

How  comes  it  that  the  French  and  other 
travellers  do  not  dwell  upon  these  things,  but 
pass  them  over  as  matters  of  little  moment  1  Is 
it  jealousy,  or  ignorance,  or  littleness  on  the 
part  of  the  British  I 

Miss  Julia perhaps  expresses  surprise 

that  I  talk  of  ignorance  among  the  English — 
attend,  ma,  belle.  It  is  not  long  ago  that  an  ad- 
venturer, named  Thorn,  was  regarded  by  num- 
bers, in  Kent,  as  an  inspired  prophet — in  Kent, 
a  county  adjoining  London,  while  its  capital 
(Canterbury)  gives  a  title  to  the  arch-episcopal 
head  of  the  Church  of  England  ;  and  even  when 
there  was  bloodshed  in  the  capture  of  this  im- 
postor, and  he  was  slain,  numbers  believed  he 
would  come  to  life  again !  On  the  borders  of 
Wales,  near  Newport,  two  or  three  years  back 
was  a  formidable  insurrection  ;  the  misguided 
Welshmen  showing  the  most  deplorable  igno- 
rance, and  a  reckless  readiness  for  any  deed  of 
violence.  Charlatans  flourish  more  in  England 
than  in  all  the  world  beside.  London,  one  of 
the  poets  calls 

"The  needy  villain's  common  home  ; 
The  sink  and  sewer  of  Paris  and  of  Rome." 

The  really  learned  are  often  incommunicative, 
while  pretending  braggarts  pass  off  their  brawl- 
ing shallowness  for  the  deep  words  of  wisdom  ; 
and  sympathizing  hearers  hail  a  kindred  spirit, 
and  applaud  the  orator,  because  they  understand 
him ;  he  speaks  down  to  common,  very  com- 
mon capacity,  and  they  feel  he  must  be  right, 
,  for  they  think  so  too.  Believe  me,  there  is  a 
fearful  mass  of  ignorance  in  the  land,  and  masses 
of  ignorance  often  are,  and  may  be  easily,  knead- 
ed into  criminality.  The  people,  the  rich  people, 
see  or  care  nothing  for  what  is  passing  around 
them  ;  they  either  look  over  it,  and  regard  (pub- 
licly) the  wants  of  foreign  lands,  or  look  on  with 
no  more  special  wonder  than  Shakspeare's  sum- 
mer's cloud  commanded  ;  but  even  a  summer's 
cloud  may  be  fraught  with  storm  and  thunder. 

Off  the  western  coast  of  Ireland — I  read  this 
in  a  work  of  high  authority — are  a  very  great 
many  islands,  and  the  inhabitants  are  pro- 
nounced as  rude  and  are  apparently  as  little 


cared  for  as  they  were  centuries  ago — how  dis- 
interested, then,  all  these  things  considered,  how 
self-denying  in  the  British  to  send  out  teachers 
or  missionaries,  call  them  what  you  will,  to 
Tahiti,  to  New  Zealand,  to  the  banks  of  the 
Niger  !  The  Thames,  and  the  Severn,  and  the 
Mersey,  and  the  Ouse,  and  the  other  rivulets 
flow  through  a  land  so  overflowing  with  wealth, 
wisdom,  and  enlightenment,  that  it  can  afford  to 
waft  its  superfluous  knowledge  and  riches  to 
the  distant  Niger.  Am  I  deceived,  dear  Julia, 
in  my  irony — is  this  so  I  May  it  not  be,  rather, 
that  pious,  and  wise,  and  prosperous  are  all  the 
children  of  famed  Great  Britain  ;  the  voice  of 
wailing  and  poverty  is  heard  no  longer  in  her 
crowded  streets;  the  school  has  superseded  the 
prison ;  the  workhouse  and  the  treadmill  rfre 
among  things  that  were — superfluous  judges 
travel  to  uncriminal  assizes.  The  soldiers'  ba- 
yonets are  broken  to  form  steel  pens ;  diseases 
are  as  rare  as  the  vices  that  once  engendered 
them ;  and  this  blessed  consummation  attained, 
is  it  not  the  duty  of  the  high  and  wealthy  to 
inform  the  African,  to  regenerate  the  Chinese, 
and  to  show  their  love  and  admiration  for  the 
pious,  virtuous,  contented,  informed  and  grateful 
people  at  home,  by  striving  to  render  distant 
regions  as  felicitous  1  But  let  me  pause,  don't 
call  this  a  digression — but,  but,  how  shall  I  term 
it — an  episode — let  it  be  an  episode. 

A  philosophical  Englishman  would  deserve 
well  of  his  own  country,  and  America  would 
honour  him,  were  he  to  travel  through  the  Uni- 
ted States,  not  with  the  harlequinade  pace  of 
Boz  ;  not  so  announced  that  all  might  know  his 
object,  to  write  a  book ;  but  as  a  patient,  search- 
ing, inquiring  observer — a  Park,  or  a  Humboldt — 
living  with  the  people,  and  conforming  to  nation- 
al manners  and  even  peculiarities;  sage  with  the 
learned,  and  plain  with  the  humble.  Then  let 
him  return  and  tell  of  a  vast  country,  a  depend- 
ant colony  in  his  grandsire's  day,  a  vast  and 
youthful  country  advancing  with  uncontrollable 
strides  to  happiness,  power,  and  wealth ;  let  him 
point  out  the  varying  states,  with  their  various 
produce ;  dwell  minutely  upon  the  laws  and 
Constitution  that  Americans  love,  and  are  not 
ashamed  to  own  they  love  ;  show  how  they  are 
adapted  to  foster  her  growing  strength,  to  give 
her  a  giant's  might  and  a  sage's  wisdom,  and 
where  change  or  modification  might  avail  her ; 
let  him  say  what  he  really  thinks  of  slavery,  but 
say  it  temperately  and  in  a  learned  spirit,  not 
contenting  himself  to  string  together  isolated 
facts  (advertisements  are  the  readiest)  and  un- 
meaning declamation  ;  let  him  describe  the  for- 
est'disappearing  before  the  settler's  axe,  .and 
how,  year  by  year,  population  would  increase, 
and  facilities  of  intercourse,  and  new  markets 
and  new  cities  arise ;  and,  chiefly,  let  him  tell 
how  his  own  country  should  regard  its  distant 
offspring,  holding  out  the  frank  right  hand  of 
cordiality,  and  hailing  a  rising  people  in  another 
hemisphere,  among  whom  .her  language  and  lit- 
erature might  live  when  the  island  .of  .Great 
Britain  had  fulfilled  her  destiny. 

The  English  laugh  at  the  Americans  for  being 
sensitive  to  satire,  or,  as  it  is  sometimes  ele- 
gantly worded,  "so  thin-skinned;"  and  if  it 
were  so,  does  it  not  show  a  kindly,  filial  love  of 
country,  unknown  to  the  phlegmatic  English- 
man !  A  generous  people  would  respect  rather 


AN    AMERICAN    LADY. 


S3 


than  wish  to  irritate  the  patriot's  feeling,  which 
felt  wounded,  when 

"  Scornful  jeer, 

Misprized  the  land  he  loved  so  dear." 
But  the  nationality  of  the  Americans,  the  Span- 
iards, and  the  Scotch  are  alike  censured  by  a 
people  who  care  too  much  for  themselves  indi- 
vidually to  care  for  their  country  or  their  kind. 
It  is  a  Scottish  man,  and  a  poet,  who  asks, 
"  Breathes  there  a  man  with  soul  so  dead, 
Who  never  to  himself  has  said, 
This  is  my  own,  my  native  land!" 

How  the  London  people  who  have  read  the  Lay, 
must  have  smiled  at  the  simplicity  of  the  Min- 
strel !  In  the  theatres  nowadays,  the  speeches 
expressive  of  love  of  country  in  the  comedies 
and  farces  of  an  earlier  period,  though  they  may 
be  applauded  by  the  galleries,  are  laughed  at 
by  the  better-informed  as  clap-trap.  I  believe 
there  never  was  a  people  more  attached  to  their 
country  than  are  the  Americans  to  theirs,  with 
all  its  free  republican  institutions.  The  fiftfc 
scandal  power  of  Mrs.  Trollope's  book,  the  quiz* 
zicalily  of  Boz,  to  say  nothing  of  Mrs.  Butler, 
Captain  Basil  Hall,  and  others,  but  make  them 
love  their  native  land  the  better. 

I  weary  of  these  abstruse  matters,  so  hey, 
presto  !  and  we  are  at  Madame  Tussaud's  wax- 
work exhibition.  Gorgeous  is  the  hall,  brill- 
iant the  lights,  pleasant  the  music  (the  harp  was 
played  admirably),  and  numerous  the  specta- 


tors.    When  you  do  see  the  Er 


animated, 


it  is  in  a  crowd.  It  is  a  fine  sight  assuredly ; 
but  I  had  heard  much  of  it,  and  was  disappoint- 
ed. There  is  no  artistic  skill  about  the  figures ; 
the  manufacturer  has  not  had  the  art  to  conceal 
his  art — wax,  wax,  wax !  There  is  not  a  mo- 
ment's illusion. 

Some  of  the  figures  are  on  pedestals,  some  on 
the  floor,  some  on  benches,  and  some  on  an  el- 
evated platform  ;  all  are,  or  ought  to  be,  the  size 
of  life;  but  the  proportions,  to  my  eye  and  to 
that  of  better  judges,  were  not  well  preserved. 
Nelson  looked  too  big,  and  Canning  too  little. 
And  there  is  George  the  Fourth,  in  his  habit  as 
he  was  crowned';  and  his  unhappy  wife  and  the 
fair-haired  daughter  whom  Britain  loved  so 
well ;  and  a  group,  containing  Napoleon,  the 
Emperors  of  Austria  and  Russia,  the  King  of 
Prussia,  Murat,  Talleyrand,  the  Duke,  Ney, 
Lord  A  nglesey,  and  others.  Some  of  the  groups 
are  very  odd.  In  one,  two  or  three  English 
gentlemen  in  their  modern  costumes  are  stand- 
ing with  Mehemet  Ali,  as  if  they  had  met  the 
Egyptian  ruler  at  a  London  conversazione,  and 
were  talking  about  the  price  of  corn  at  Cairo ! 
Why  could  not  some  historical  or  chronological 
verity  be  preserved  1  John  Knox  is  represented 
addressing  Mary  Stuart,  and  Luther  and  Calvin 
are  standing  by  him  !  If  we  waive  trifling  im- 
pediments of  time  and  place,  and  assume  that 
the  three  reformers  met,  what  would  have  been 
the  consequence  I  Would  they  have  fought  1— 
I  mean  bodily.  The  clinching  of  hands  has  some- 
times superseded  that  of  arguments  in  very 
grave  persons. 

Queen  Victoria  is  represented  at  her  corona- 
tion and  her  marriage,  and  I  think  scant  justice 
has  been  rendered  to  her  beauty.  There  is  a 

figure  of  Washington,  draped  in  black  velvet 

dignified  in  position,  and  a  very  passable  like- 


a  man  on  whose  robe  of  glory  rested  neither  the 
stain  of  selfishness,  the  deep-dyed  spot  of  ava- 
rice, nor  the  brand  of  unworthy  ambition.  How 
few  of  the  world's  heroes  maintained,  like  Wash- 
ington, "  the  noble  character  of  a  Captain,  the 
Friend  of  peace,  and  a  Statesman,  the  Friend  of 
justice."  From  "Macedonia's  madman  to  the 
Swede,"  and  from  him  to  Napoleon ;  they  all 
lacked  most  of  the  qualities  "  that  make  ambi- 
tion virtue." 
"Not  so  Leonidas  and  Washington, 

Whose  every  battle-field  is  holy  ground, 
Which  breathes  of  nations  saved,  not  worlds  undone." 

Little  Charles  Sausse  repeated  these  lines  until 
I  had  them  by  heart ;  he  had  either  forgotten  or 
would  not  tell  where  he  found  them.  Byron — I 
mean  Madame  Tussaud's  Byron — looks  like  an 
amateur  Romeo  at  an  inferior  theatre;  and 
Shakspeare  is  served  little  better,  but  he  is  ac- 
customed to  misrepresentation.  Sir  Walter  has 
the  look  of  bonhomie  that  characterized  him,  and 
John  Kemble  and  Mrs.  Siddons  looked  the  in- 
carnation (in  wax)  of  Hamlet  and  Lady  Mac- 
beth. Cobbett,  one  of  the  best  figures,  is  placed 
on  a  bench  where  visitors  sit ;  he  has  a  snuff- 
box in  his  hand,  his  head  moves,  and  I  was  told 
he  had  been  accosted  as  if  he  not  only  moved, 
but  lived,  and  had  his  beingV  There  is  a  Chi- 
nese figure  which,  being  duly  wound  up,  shakes 
its  head — a  feat  that  gives  great  satisfaction  to 
the  enlightened  and  well-dressed  crowd. 

In  addition  to  all  this  is  a  Chamber  of  Hor- 
rors—a detached  collection,  with,  of  course,  an 
extra  charge.'  Here  are  the  murderers,  that  is, 
the  retail  murderers,  the  most  prized  by  the  cu- 
rious in  crimes,  and  other  dreadful  characters, 
both  French  and  English.  When  the  law  has 
made  its  last  exhibition  of  a  murderer  at  the 
Newgate  drop,  his  likeness  is  soon  advertised 
as  added  to  this  collection.  A  cold-blooded  peo- 
ple like  the  English  love  what  is  shocking,  that 
they  may  experience  something  akin  to  excite- 
ment ;  but  we  had  not  this  taste,  and  so  visited 
not  this  chamber,  but  went  home  to  sup,  not  full 


of  horrors. 


Ever,  etc. 


LETTER  XII. 

Mrs.  Trollope.— What's  in  a  Name  ?— New  Poor  Law.— 
Rich  English  careless  about  the  Poor.— Expediency.— 
Steam  to  Richmond.— Banks  of  the  Thames  Westward. 
—  Richmond  Hill  and  Church.  —  Omnibuses.  —  Cheap 
Discomfort.— Snuff. 

London, ,  1843. 

MY  DEAREST  JULIA— I  might  cite  things  here 
of  ladies  of  different  ranks  which,  at  first,  start- 
led me  as  rather  indelicate ;  but  I  know  they 
are  not  so  considered  in  this  country,  so  I  have 
no  right  to  censure  them.  Indelicacy  is  no 
characteristic  of  the  ladies  of  England.  A  gen- 
eral belief  prevails  that  the  American  ladies  are 
what  is' called  squeamish,  that  is,  inordinately 
modest.  I  really  believe  the  chief  authority  for 
this  absurd  opinion  is  Mrs.  Trollope's  novels, 
the  most  imaginative  of  which  is  styled  "Do- 


mestic Manners  of  the  Americans." 
of  mock-modesty,  as  the  novelist 


One  piece 
n  question 


would  call  it,  I  plead  guilty  to — I  have  a  dislike 
to  pronounce  in  full,  though  not  to  write  it  to 
_   .  you,   Mrs.   Trollope's   name  —  Trollope!      Mr. 

felt  proud  as  I  looked  upon  his  effigy ;    Trollope  must  have  been  a  fascinating  mart  to 


LETTERS   FROM 


have  induced  a  young  lady  to  descend  from 
Milton  into  a  Trollope.  Is  there  a  Mr.  Tro 
lope,  Sen.,  still,  for  his  name  is  never  heard  1 
Mr.  Dickens  tells  us — and  as  I  did  not  kno 
the  fact  previously,  there  i*  some  information  i 
be  derived  from  his  two  volumes — that  "one  o 
the  provinces  of  the  State  Legislature  of  Mass* 
chusetts  is  to  alter  ugly  names  into  pretty  ones  ; 
and  this  is  accomplished  at  small  outlay.  Pit 
but  a  similar  provision  existed  in  England  f< 
Mrs.  Trollope's  behoof!  It  is  recorded,  tha 
•when  many  quiet  Parisian  citizens,  durin 
Robespierre's  dictatorship,  assumed  a  filthy  an 
ferocious  exterior  in  order  to  appear  imbue 
with  the  spirit  of  the  times,  they  insensibly,  an 
by  slow  degrees,  acquired  the  feelings  they  a 
first  stimulated,  and  Decamp  the  characters  the 
meant  only  to  play.  And  so,  if  Mrs.  Trollope 
would  assume  a  refined  name,  who  knows  wha 
benefits  might  accrue  1  It  might  purify  and  un 
vulgarize  her  style  of  composition  ;  her  friend 
should  see  to  it.  I  cannot  conceive  her  writin 
as  she  does,  were  she  Frances  T.  Montnio 
rency. 

The  old  woman,  concerning  whom  you  wrot 

me  to  make  inquiries  for  Mrs.  F ,  did  die  ii 

the  workhouse,  and  under  the  circumstance 
you  mention  ;  she  lingered  longer  than  I  couk 
have  believed  possible  for  such  a  person  in  sucr 
a  place,  nearly  three  years.  Alas !  for  one  rear 
ed  in  luxury,  and  possessing,  as  indeed  it  provec 
to  her,  "  the  fatal  gift  of  beauty." 

It  would  be  easy  to  string  together  a  long  lis 
of  cruelties  and  wrongs  inflicted  in  workhouses 
and  give  printed  authority  for  each;  then  ap 
pend  a  few  pages  of  philanthropic  paragraphs 
and  let  the  inference  be,  that  in  England  pover 
ty  was  punished  more  severely  than  crime — the 
worn-out  pauper,  with  thews  and  sinews  stiffen 
ed  by  extreme  age,  worse  treated  than  the 
healthy  young  pickpocket ;  and  suppose  this  in 
ference  were  not  exactly  correct,  what  then 
The  like  has  been  done  in  respect  to  slavery  in 
America ;  there  is  good  precedent  for  it,  ant 
the  English  are  great  people  for  precedents.  ] 
have  often  wondered  to  hear  of  judges  or  legis- 
lators objecting  to  do  such  or  such  a  thing 
•while  admitting  it  ought  to  be  done,  because 
there  was  no  precedent  for  it.  Really  !  But  if 
the  measure  were  good  in-  itself,  why  not  make 
a  precedent  1 

The  new  Poor  Law  is,  and  has  been,  a  most 
prolific  subject  of  dissension.  According  to  one 
party,  it  was  to  be  a  panacea — "  the  sovereign's! 
thing  on  earth"  for  the  ailments  of  the  country 
Large  new  workhouses,  called  Union  work- 
bouses,  built  like  prisons,  only  gloomier,  were 
to  be  flung  open  to  the  poor  as  a  test  of  destitu- 
tion ;  if  the  tested  poor  refused  to  become  in- 
mates, the  alternative  had  the  merit  of  being 
perfectly  intelligible — simply,  to  starve  ;  and  so 
some  have  starved  in  preference.  This,  and  a 
few  more  provisions  in  the  like  spirit,  concern- 
ing which  a  lady  cannot  write,  were  "  to  scatter 
plenty  o'er  a  smiling  land."  I  believe  it  was 
never  very  clearly  stated  how. 

On  the  other  hand,  the  opponents  of  the  Poor 
Law  change  ransacked  the  dictionaries  for  epi- 
thets to  hurl  at  the  enactments  and  their  sup- 
porters. It  was  a  topic  at  elections,  an  estab- 
lished matter  of  declamation  in  the  newspapers, 
and  of  debates  in  Parliament,  until  the  English 


people  quarrelled  about  the  poor  as  if  they  really 
cared  for  them !  Cared  they  as  fellow-crea- 
tures ought  to  care,  little  need  would  there  be 
of  Poor  Laws  at  all.  But  when  such  a  thing  is 
asserted,  they  smile  an  incredulous  smile,  blame 
the  poor,  and  say  it  is  impossible.  True,  it 
is  impossible  that  selfishness  and  self-conceit 
should  not  render  the  heart  harder  than  the  dia- 
mond on  the  finger,  and  deaden  it  to  every  lofty 
and  generous  impulse ;  therefore,  I  say  it  w  im- 
possible that  this  remedy  should  be  attempted 
in  England.  What !  are  all  those  respectable, 
reverend,  and  noble  persons,  whose  name  is  le- 
gion, and  whose  individual  wealth,  in  lands, 
houses,  moneys,  jewels,  wines,  plate,  merchan- 
dise, mines,  or  offices,  counts  from  five  thousand 
sterling  pounds  to  more  than  five  millions,  is  it 
to  be  expected  that  they  should  exert  themselves 
to  benefit  the  poor  ?  Many  of  them  have  not 
time— talk  of  duties,  indeed !  They  are  busy, 
and  cannot  be  troubled.  And  then  their  aid 

ight  be  un-praised,  un-recorded,  un-printed. 
Tush  !  Only  a  lady  and  a  foreigner  could  pro- 
found so  strange  a  remedy.  Alas  !  alas !  and 
s  it  even  so  1  Will  all  these  wealthy  men  al- 
ways be  content  to  pay  their  poor's  rates,  sub- 
scribe in  well-arranged  print  to  a  few  societies, 
go  to  charity  balls,  and  concerts,  and  bazars, 
hat  they  may  have  what  they  account  their 
money's  worth  for  the  help  they  afford  to  im- 
>overisbed  schools,  and  shipwrecked  mariners, 
nd  desolate  Poles  —  die  —  be  buried  by  their 
eirs,  with  abundance  of  pomp  if  not  of  tears, 
and  let  it  be  duly  promulgated  that  the  personal 

property  of  the  late  Mr. ,  of ,  was  sworn 

inder  so  many  tens  or  hundreds  of  thousands  1 
lather  than  this,  would  these  affluent  persons 
se  their  wealth,  use  it  among  their  own  people, 
not  as  thoughtless  spendthrifts,  but  as  Christian 
entlemen,  they  would  be  as  little  troubled  about 
*oor  Laws  as  the  Germans,  French,  or  Ameri- 
ans. 

As  ungenerous  men  will  be  ungenerous,  as 
Christian  men  (by  courtesy)  will  be  unchristian, 
Poor  Law  is  indispensable  in  England  ;  and  I 
retend  not  to  say  whether  the  new  law  really 
eserves  its  appellation  of  an  Amendment,  or  is 
nly  an  experimental  alteration.  One  of  its 
rovisions — and  this  is  by  law  a  Christian  land 
— is,  that  husband  and  wife,  old  or  young,  well 
r  ill  conducted,  are  to  be  parted  in  a  work- 
ouse ;  for  it  is  expedient.  "  Those  whom  God 
ath  joined  together  let  no  man  put  asunder." 
s  it  anywhere  written  that  parochial  conve- 
ience  should  supersede  a  scriptural  injunction  T 
"he  British  ought  to  call  this  the  age  of  expe- 
ency,  for  reason  and  Gospel  must  and  do  yield 
>  it. 

But  let  us  leave  the  hard-hearted  present  and 
et  into  the  past — and  really,  how  much  we  live 

the  past  and  the  future  !  we  are  forever  look- 
g  before  or  behind.  Like  Belinda,  Mr.  A., 
ou,  and  myself,  as  we  stood  on  that  rocky  ele- 
ation, 

"  Where,  at  evening.  Allephany  views. 
Through  ridges  burnine  in  her  western  beam, 
Lake  after  lake  interminably  gleam," 

nd  looked  round  us  into  the  distance,  and 
joke  of  this  remote  spot  or  that,  while  the 
ound  we  stood  upon,  like  the  unregarded  pres- 
it,  was  neither  mentioned  nor  thought  of. 
Last  week  I  promised  to  accompany  Mr.  Gny 


AX   AMERICAN  LADY. 


and  his  new  wife  to  Richmond  and  Twicken- 
ham. I  persuaded  Mrs.  Mortimer  to  be  of  the 
party ;  and  as  we  were  too  many  for  the  car- 
riage, it  was  arranged  that  we  should  go  by  one 
of  the  river  steamboats,  and  embark  at  a  place 
called  Hungerford,  where  they  are  building  a 
bridge— by  inches,  it  would  appear.  I  had  a 
dislike  to  this  party,  and  would  fain  have  been 
excused  ;  I  thought  of  twenty  modes  of  escape, 
none  of  them  perfectly  immaculate,  so  at  last  I 
made  up  my  mind  to  go,  and  think  no  more  of 
it ;  the  reality  of  an  annoyance  often  proves 
more  tolerable  than  the  previous  dread  ;  many 
a  man,  it  has  been  said,  rushes  into  the  danger 
to  get  rid  of  the  apprehension. 

Mrs.  Mortimer  and  I  walked  to  Mrs.  Guy's 
apartments  in  Waterloo  Place,  and  we  were  to 
proceed  to  the  place  of  embarcation  on  foot,  it 
being  no  great  distance.  Mrs.  Guy  informed  us 
that  her  caro  sposo  was  at  a  hotel  hard  by, 
whither  he  had  been  summoned  to  meet  one  of 
his  countrymen  on  important  business,  and  we 
•would  call  for  him.  This  was  not  very  agreea- 
ble, but  so  it  was  settled  ;  we  called  according- 
ly, and,  I  suppose,  by  some  mistake  of  the 
waiter,  were  shown  at  once  into  a  room  where 
sat  Mr.  Guy  alone.  Said  I  alone  1  He  was  so- 
laced by  a  cigar,  and  beside  him  stood  a  goblet 
which  had  contained  some  dark  beverage.  The 
surprise  was  perfect ;  he  was  taken  in  the 
manner, 

"  Backward  his  step  he  drew, 
As  loath  that  care  or  tumult  should  approach 
Those  early  rites  divine." 

Mrs.  Walter  seemed  inclined  to  debate  upon  the 
spot  this  infraction  of  the  no-tobacco  obliga- 
tion, which  was  a  collateral  part  of  the  mar- 
riage ceremony  ;  but  we  hurried  away  and  got 
on  board,  having  to  go  along  a  rude,  rocking, 
wooden  way,  to  a  primitive  sort  of  pier. 

Seated,  1  was  at  Mrs.  Guy's  mercy ;  and, 
mercy  on  me  !  Julia,  I  was  not  spared.  The 
whole  statistics  of  her  Edinburgh  establishment 

in  the  late  Mr.  Mac 's  time,  were  obligingly 

laid  before  me  :  the  footmen's  wages  with  liver- 
ies ;  the  housemaids'  without  tea  ;  the  cost  of 
hebdomadal  butchery  (as  our  schoolmaster  ac- 
quaintance might  call  it),  bakery,  and  chandlery ; 
and  grievous  complaints  of  the  enormous  sums 
paid  wine  and  spirit  merchants,  which,  she 
sighed,  made  her  a  widow  at  last !  Her  system 
of  dress  on  this  Richmond  occasion  was  simple, 
its  effect  compound,  as  it  was  a  blending  of  as 
many  hues  as  possible  on  the  human  form  di- 
vine ;  bonnet,  veil,  scarf,  gown,  gloves,  and 
hoots,  varied  in  colour ;  jewellery  was  not  spa- 
red, and  in  the  sunshine  the  blaze  was  perfect. 

We  went  through  several  bridges.  The  first 
was  Westminster,  a  heavy  stone  structure  they 
appear  always  to  be  repairing ;  over  it  the  tide 
of  population  flowed  fully,  while  across'  Vaux- 
hall,  an  iron  bridge  at  a  little  distance,  were 
hardly  any  passers — a  very  Mediterranean  in 
its  tidelesness ;  I  concluded  it  was  a  toll-bridge. 
Then  came  Battersea  and  Fulham  bridges,  rude 
wooden  piles  for  a  metropolitan  vicinity ;  a 
handsome  suspension  bridge  at  Hammersmith ; 
Kew  and  Richmond  bridges,  both  stone. 

We  passed  Chelsea  Hospital  in  our  progress — 
an  asylum  for  decayed  soldiers.  I  have  not  seen 
over  it,  but  can  picture  the  veterans  bronzed  by 
.many  a  scorching  sun  in  Egypt,  India,  the  Span- 


ish Peninsula,  and  France.  Sion  House,  one  of 
the  seats  of  the  wealthy  Duke  of  Northumber- 
land (the  Percy  family),  is  by  the  river  side  ; 
there  are  a  number  of  elegant  villas  beside ;  fine 
swans  in  the  river,  much  admired  by  the  cock- 
neys, and  a  few  pleasure-boats.  The  banks  of 
the  Thames,  up  the  river,  as  it  is  called,  are 
beautiful,  that  is,  not  bold,  but  English  beauty, 
green,  trim,  and  highly  cultivated. 

In  my  ignorance  I  expected  that  "  thy  hill, 
delightful  Sheen,"  was  actually  a  green  hill  or 
hillock,  but  the  dusty  road  is  carried  to  the 
summit  of  what  they  call  the  hill,  and  the  view 
is  fine  indeed  ;  the  river  is  the  principal  charm 
in  the  landscape,  and  the  eye  wanders  delight- 
edly over  rich  woods  and  a  smiling  country  ; 
the  haze  prevented  our  espying  Windsor  Castle 
in  the  distance.  Thomson  certainly  used  a 
poet's  license  when  with  his  Amanda  his  rap- 
tured eye  would 

"  Sweep 

The  boundless  landscape." 

He  a  Scotchman  too !  But  his  thoughts,  like 
his  style,  are  diffuse.  Mr.  Guy  pronounced  the 
prospect  "  a  smart  eye-full,"  and  Mrs.  Guy,  that 
vas  '"very  well  for  the  sooth."  The  river 
f»entines  a  little  near  the  base  of  Richmond 
Hill,  and  a  small  island  presents  a  pleasant  and 
verdant  aspect ;  it  is  visited  by  the  cockney 
pic-nic  parties,  and  bears  the  appropriate  name 
of  Eel-pie  Island.  Of  course  we  visited  the 
hurch  and  Thomson's  grave  (I  resist  the  tempt- 
ation to  quote  Collins's  "  Druid"  lines) :  the  bard 
is  buried  inside  the  church,  and  there  is  a  small 
plain  tablet  to  his  memory.  Mrs.  Guy  felt  in- 
terested in  the  last  resting-place  of  her  coun- 
ryman,  and  had  seen  Ednam,  the  town  of  his 
t)irth.  In  the  churchyard  is  a  monument  to 
Edmund  Kean,  who  died  and  is  interred  at 
Richmond  ;  his  socks,  in  the  opinion  of  most 
people  here,  are  yet  unfilled.  I  wish  one  could 
visit  those  places  alone ;  life  was  indeed  a  fitful 
fever  with  poor  Kean.  We  walked  a  little  way 
in  the  park  (there  is  no  palace  now),  and  enjoy- 
2d  the  quiet  around  us.  The  flaunting  taste  of 
the  mere  Londoner  has  not  infected  Richmond  : 
it  is  a  proper  off-shoot  from  a  wealthy  metropo- 
lis. 

The  rain  prevented  our  visiting  Twickenham 
and  Pope's  villa  and  grotto,  or,  rather,  their  site; 
lis  grave  and  monument  are  in  Twickenham 
Church.  Were  it  not  that  churches  and  monu- 
ments are  stationary,  and  cannot  very  well  be 
cut  or  sliced  away  (it  has  been  done  though)  to 
make  room  for  stucco,  I  think  England,  or, 
•ather,  Middlesex,  would  have  few  memorials 
eft  of  the  illustrious  dead,  save  such  as  their 
works,  which  defy  the  rage  of  man,  will  ever  af- 
"ord. 

We  dined  at  the  famed  Star  and  Garter  Ho- 
el :  the  dinner  was  elegant,  and  elegantly  serv- 
ed. I  am  told,  and  can  well  believe,  that  the 
great  object  of  the  London  people  in  their  coun- 
ry  excursions  is  to  dine.  The  question  being 
lot  so  much  "Where  shall  we  gol"  as  "Where 
hall  we  dine?"  Rather,  "What  would  you 
ike  to  eat?"  than,  "What  would  you  like  to 
eel"  Eating  is  an  individual,  a  self,  enjoy- 
nent,  and  is  therefore  highly  popular  in  Eng- 
and;  they  protract  the  dinner  when  they  ru- 
alize,  to  get  through  the  day. 

Mr.  Guy  was  quiet  and  very  attentive  to  all, 


LETTERS    FROM 


and  Mrs.  Guy  to  all — but  her  husband.  He  was 
performing  quarantine  before  he  could  be  ad 
milled  into  her  good  graces,  on  propitiation,  as 
it  were :  I  do  nol  doubt  he  would  most  readily 
and  perseveringly  have  smoked  the  calumet  of 
peace,  a  custom  which  he  unquestionably  con- 
siders worthy  of  civilized  man. 

We  returned,  greatly  against  my  will,  by  one 
of  those  conveyances  praised  for  the  cheapness 
of  their  discomfort,  an  omnibus.  I  hope  never 
to  enter  one  again :  a  lady  has  the  choice  of 
sitting  in  a  corner  next  the  horses  and  being 
stifled,  for  London  journeyers  have  a  great  ob- 
jection to  air,  and  generally  keep  the  window- 
glasses,  or  part  of  them,  up ;  some  rotund  per- 
son redolent  of  wine  insisting  upon  it  on  the 
plea  of  delicate  health  ;  or,  if  she  must  have 
air,  she  may  sit  next  the  door  and  have  every 
passenger  crush  past  her,  no  matter  how  she 
may  shrink  from  the  contact,  while  during  the 
journey  the  figure  of  the  conductor  often  fills 
up  the  open  space  and  excludes  any  air  but — 
pah  !  garlick  is  better.  The  choice  of  these  el- 
igible places  depends  upon  your  being  first  in  the 
omnibus,  otherwise  you  must  settle  as  you  can. 
Of  course  the  gentlemen  omnibusers  think  only 
of  their  own  accommodation.  Mr.  Dickena^ls 
us,  that  during  his  journey  from  Pittsburg  to 
Cincinnati,  on  board  the  steamboat,  "  ihere 
was  no  sociality  except  in  spilling ;"  in  a  Lon- 
don omnibus  there  is  no  sociality  in  anything, 
except  in  grumbling  now  and  then. 

By-the-by,  I  must  tell  you  that  I  once  or  twice 
saw  Mrs.  Guy  slily  indulge  in  a  pinch  of  snuff, 
veritable  tabac,  dainty  Miss  Julia  !  though  she 
might  pretend  it  was  Grimstone's  eye-snuff. 
Now,  why  should  she  object  to  the  marital  to- 
bacco? Do  not  suppose  for  a  moment  that 
snuffing  is  common  to  British  ladies  :  quite  the 
reverse,  and  that  despite  the  example  of  Queen 
Charlotte  :  you  should  read  Madame  d'Arblay 
on  the  duties  of  the  regal  snuff-box.  The  Eng- 
lish ladies  have  no  such  habits ;  the  custom 
may  once  have  been  prevalent  and  fashionable, 
more  or  less  ;  some  of  the  last  century  writers 
lead  one  to  think  so.  The  Taller,  amid  the 
good  advice  he  gave  his  fair  young  sister  Jenny 
before  her  marriage,  "  made  her  relinquish  her 
snuff-box  forever,  and  half  drown  herself  wiih 
•washing  away  Ihe  scent  of  the  musty." 

What  a  long  letter ;  but  you  must  not  com- 
plain of  my  having  taxed  your  patience,  your  pa- 
tience, indeed  .  Think  of  mine. 

Ever,  etc. 


LETTER  XIII. 

"Regpectanle"  versus  "  Smart."— English  domestic  Ser- 
vants.— Elisha. — Sumptuary  Law  among  Servants. — 
Kathleen  O'Reilly.— The  Tally.—"  An  old  Tale,  and 
often  told." 

London, ,  1843. 

MY  DEAREST  JULIA — It  appears  from  Mr.  Dick- 
ens's  account  that  to  be  "  smart"  is  the  quality 
or  phrase  covering  a  multitude  of  sins  in  Amer- 
ica—here, it  is  to  be  "  respectable." 

"  I  wonder,"  say  I,  "  to  see  a  man  like  Mr. 
in  society  :  is  he  not  known  to  be  a  worth- 
less husband  ;  an  avaricious  and  tyrannical  fa- 
ther, and  constantly  in  disreputable  quarrels  ?" 
"  Very  true,  but  Ihen  he's  such  a  respectable 
man."  "  And  Mr. ,  I  am  told  his  fortune 


has  been  made  by  strange  means,  and  many 
attribute  their  ruin  to  his  plausibility.*  "  Yes, 
but  he's  a  very  respectable  man  too." 

None  of  the  dictionaries  define  "  respectable" 
as  it  is  underslood  now ;  il  means  "  rich." 
When  people  in  England  "  plale  sin  with  gold," 
it  is  sin  no  longer. 

In  nothing,  perhaps,  is  there  a  wider  differ- 
ence between  London  and  New- York  lhan  in 
the  character  and  treatment  of  domestic  ser- 
vants. In  London,  you  see  very  few  people  of 
colour ;  now  and  then  a  black  in  shining  livery, 
and  there  are  frequently  Iwo  or  three  in  regi- 
mental bands  to  play  the  cymbals,  and  look 
Moorish.  It  was  some  little  while  before  my 
eye  became  accustomed  to  the  complexional  uni- 
formity of  the  streets.  Among  female  domestic 
servants  I  never  heard  of  any  woman  of  colour  ; 
with  all  their  fine  professions,  the  English  of  all 
classes  dislike  communion  with  negroes  as  much 
as,  or  more  than  other  people.  Were  England) 
a  home  for  the  free  blacks,  there  would  surely 
be  numbers  from  the  West  India  Islands,  from 
British  Guiana,  and  elsewhere.  The  few  negro 
men  to  be  found  in  England  are  principally  em- 
ployed, as  I  have  shown  you,  for  purposes  of 
parade. 

Don't  let  me  forget,  while  it  is  in  my  recol- 
lection, to  request  you  to  tell  Mr.  C that 

Elisha,  the  Roseville  man  he  wrote  to  me  about,, 
was  found,  after  some  difficulty,  by  a  person  my 
solicitor  employed. 

Do  you  remember  the  English  lady,  Mrs.  Colo- 
nel   ,  who  was  in  New- York  when  we  were 

girls,  and  how  we  admired  her  turbans,  and  won- 
dered at  the  immutability  of  her  roses !  (I  don't 
mean  those  in  her  bonnet.)  Well,  her  husband 
brought  with  him  to  England  a  mulatto,  who 
soon  entered  into  the  service  of  the  colonel's 
uncle,  and  his  kind  master  dying  a  few  years 
aAer,  bequeathed  by  will  to  "  his  faithful  negro, 
Elisha,"  six  shillings  weekly  for  his  life — this  is 
the  man  in  question.  The  executor,  who  was 
also  the  heir,  demurred  to  the  payment  of  this  be- 
quest, because  the  legatee  was  described  as  a 
negro,  but  was  actually  a  mulatto  !  Perhaps  his 
lawyer  told  this  scrupulous-minded  gentleman 
that  equity  would  see  no  colour  for  withholding 
the  legacy,  and  Ihe  law  might  compel  the  pay- 
ment, as  Elisha  could  easily  procure  a  "  respect- 
able" solicitor  to  undertake  the  case ;  so  the 
poor  mulatto  received  and  continues  to  receive 

the  weekly  allowance.     Tell  Mr.  C (it  will 

save  me  the  trouble  of  writing)  that  he  need  not 
expect  this  man  to  send  any  money  to  his  sickly 
sister  in  Roseville,  for  he  has  only  this  ten  pence 
a  day — (how  much  is  it?)  to  live  upon,  besides 
any  trifle  he  may  earn  or  beg,  and  I  grieve  to- 
say,  Elisha  is  inordinately  fond  of  gin.  I  once 
sent  him  five  shillings,  to  be  withheld,  unless 
fie  premised  faithfully  not  to  drink  a  cent,  I  mean 
a  farthing,  of  it  in  any  public-house  ;  he  prom- 
sed,  and  straightway  purchased  two  bottles  of 
lis  favourite  beverage  at  some  spirit  merchant's, 
and  drank  it  every  drop  in  his  own  room  !  An 
ngenious  casuist.  I  have  been  told  he  whee- 
dles poor  girls  and  silly  boys  out  of  a  few  pence 
now  and  then,  by  telling  them  their  fortunes  ! 

The  female  servants  here  are  a  distinct  class, 
(ept  at  far  greater  distance  than  young  "  helps" 

America  would  tolerate  for  a  moment ;  living 
principally  in  areas,  with  their  hours  of  church 


AN   AMERICAN  LADY. 


•or  chapel-going,  and  of  fresh  air,  as  methodical 
apportioned  as  their  wages.     A  sumptuary  la 
prevails  among  them,  I  mean  that  it  is  the  cu 
torn  of  the  country  to  proscribe  certain  article 
of  apparel  to  the  lower  grade  of  servants ;  fo 
of  course,  there  is  an  aristocracy  in  servitude 
and  the  line  of  demarcation  is  broadly  marke 
and  rigidly  observed.     The  housemaid  may  n 
use  a  veil  or  a  parasol,  but  they  seem  proper  t 
the  lady's-maid ;   perhaps  the  housemaid  is 
fair  girl,  to  whom  a  walk  in  the  sunshine  is  mos 
assured  freckles,  while  the  lady's-maid  migh 
prodigally  unveil  her  beauty  to  a  hotter  sun  tha 
Great  Britain's,  as  she  is  already  darker  than 
Spanish  peasant ;  no  matter,  the  rule  must  be 
observed,  and  I  believe  it  is  one  of  the  few  rules 
that  know  no  exceptions.    There  are  many  slip 
ulations  in  hiring  these  servants  :  a  very  com 
mon  one  is,  that  they  "  shall  find  their  own  tea 
and  sugar,"  and  they  generally  do  contrive  t 
find  them  somewhere  or  other  about  their  mas 
ter's  house  ;  another  is,  that  "  no  followers  shal 
be  allowed,"  that  is,  no  sweathearts  ;  the  course 
of  true  love  must  not  flow,  either  smoothly  or 
disturbedly,  into  kitchens  and  sculleries ;  grea 
numbers  of  "  no  follower"  servants,  notwith 
standing  the  prohibition,  obtain  husbands  ;  mar- 
riages between  the  male  and  female  domestics 
in  large  establishments  are  not  unfreqxient,  while 
flirtations  with  milkmen,  bakers,  butchers,  fish- 
mongers, and  others,  through  the  area  rails,  are 
considered  things  of  course,   with  policemen 
most  especially  of  all. 

Sometimes  female  servants  continue  many 
years  in  one  place,  but  not  frequently ;  the  at- 
tachment that  used  to  subsist  between  master 
and  servant,  and  which  in  many  country  places 
might  be  the  relic  of  a  feudal  clanship,  is  know 
no  longer,  or  in  only  a  faint  degree  ;  nor  do  I 
think  there  is  anything  like  the  attached  feeling 
to  the  family  often  manifested  by  negresses  in 
the  slave  states  of  America.  Do  not  think  the 
•worse  of  the  female  domestics  in  England  if 
they  are  generally  selfish  ;  recollect,  the  char- 
acter of  menials  is  formed  by  that  of  their  prin- 
cipals. A  really  good  intelligent  English  ser- 
vant is  indeed  a  treasure,  which  an  American 
can  well  and  almost  enviously  appreciate. 

These  females  are  sometimes  harshly  treated, 
and  incessantly  employed,  there  being  little  in- 
termission in  their  labour,  in  lodging-houses 
especially,  from  early  morning  until  nearly  mid- 
night; sometimes  they  have  very  little  to  do, 
and  if  children  become  attached  to  them,  in  many 
instances,  they  seem  almost  members  of  the 
family.  These  servants  talk  of  " hard"  or  "  easy" 
places.  When  a  girl  is  old  or  big  enough  to  en- 
dure the  fatigues  of  service,  she  is  pronounced 
able  "  to  make  place."  The  very  civil  man  who 
drives  my  monthly  job,  was  praised  by  his  mas- 
ter as  one  "  who  knew  a  coach  well ;"  that  is, 
•was  skilful  in  the  management  of  it.  The  Eng- 
lish laugh  at  what  they  call  Americanisms,  but 
these  expressions,  and  many  much  stranger, 
pass  unnoticed  ;  they  are  a  people  eminently 
skilful  in  not  seeing  what  is  immediately  before 
their  eyes. 

When  I  first  occupied  these  apartments  (I  will 
be  "  at  home"  to  you  now),  the  girl,  whose  sole 
business  it  is  to  wait  upon  me,  my  rooms,  and 
my  humours,  was  one  whose  countenance  was 
not  a  letter  of  recommendation,  but  of  repulsive- 


ness  and  had  temper — and  very  plainly  were  the 
characters  written.  I  can  only  describe  her 
character  by  contraries  ;  or,  to  speak  learnedly 
and  astonish  you — antithetically.  She  was  smart 
and  sluttish,  cringing  and  impudent — "an  im- 
pertinent mixture  of  busy  and  idle."  She  left  in 
a  fortnight  to  be  married  !  Yes,  lady  of  many 
followers  (come,  I  will  fit  you  with  a  word),  to  be 
married  !  ^yhere  have  I  seen  it  written  :  "  II  n'y 
a  point  de  belles  prisons,  ni  de  laides  amours  ?" 
Mr.  Dickens  would  seem  to  belie  the  first  part 
of  the  sentence  in  his  account  of  some  prisons 
in  the  States,  but  then  he  only  spoke  en  amateur. 
Well,  Sarah  was  married  to  a  butcher's  assist- 
ant, poor  man !  and  Kathleen  served  in  her 
stead. 

Kathleen  O'Reilly  is  a  blushful,  neat,  nice- 
ooking,  well-mannered  Irish  girl,  so  wishful  to 
Dlease  that  she  really  anticipates  my  wants  ;  but 
[  am  much,  or  rather  have  been  much,  abroad 
and  in  company,  and  her  duties  are  not  very 
onerous  ;  she  never  loses  her  temper,  the  mis- 
press of  the  house  told  me,  unless  when  the 
)ther  servants,  in  right  English  feeling,  twit  her 
-vith  being  Irish.  One  day,  in  the  first  fortnight 
'.  knew  Kathleen,  she  was  evidently  in  deep  dis- 
ress.  I  inquired  the  cause,  and  it  was  on  ac- 
jount  of  her  sister — a  married  sister  deserted 
iy  her  husband,  left  with  one  child,  and  support- 
rig  herself  by  working  for  some  upholsterer, 
^oor  Kathleen's  slender  purse  was  soon  ex- 
austed  in  her  behalf:  and  when  her  feelings 
re  strongly  called  forth,  so  is  her  brogue. 
"  And  shure,  ma'am,  its  only  seven  shillin'  a 
week  she  can  earn,  and  that's  only  two  to  live  up- 
n;  and  the  child,  God  save  him!  never  goes  with- 
ut  the  bit  and  sup,  and  it's  after  starvin'she  is." 
[Here  was  a  burst  of  tears  ;  but  the  statement 
-•as  rather  incomprehensible,  or,  as  a  satirical 
erson  would  say,  very  Irish.] 

"Well,  but  Kathleen,  earn  seven  shillings, 
nd  only  two  to  live  upon,  how  is  that?" 
"  Ah  !  and  indeed,  ma'am,  it's  true  :  there's 
he  bit  of  a  room,  and  she  must  live  in  a  daceni 
lace,  and  scorns  to  trouble  the  hard  English 
eighbours,  that's  two  shillin',  and  the  tally- 
man's three  shillin',  and  the  two's  all  that's  in. 
after  that." 

[This  was  the  interpretation  ;   but,  as   has 
appened  before  with  interpretations,  it  was  the 
ore  difficult  to  understand  of  the  two.] 
"  The  tallyman,  who  is  he  ?" 
"  Just  Mr.  Greenfield's  man,  ma'am." 
"  And  who's  Mr.  Greenfield  ?" 
"  Shure  and  isn't  he  the  master;  and  it's  strict 
e  is,  and  won't  be  put  off,  though  he's  as  rich 
s  the  lord." 

[I  quite  started,  but  must  acquit  poor  Kath- 
en  of  any  intentional  impiety  ;  she  is  a  native 
"  the  county  of  Mayo  ;  her  father  was  a  groom 
f  Lord  Sligo's,  and  hr.  was  the  lord  she  meant ; 
such  titles  must  be,  why  they  lead  to  a  sound 
"profaneness.] 
"  Well,  but  what  is  he  1" 
"  Arrah,  ma'am,  and  isn't  he  the  tally  ?" 
"  And  what  is  the  tally  ?" 
But  I  must  give  you  the  definition  in  my  own 
ay.    It  seems  that  there  are  a  great  many 
adesmen  in  London  who  sell  wares  of  alljdncls 
i  tally,  that  is,  the  purchaser  has  to  defray  the 
jst  of  the  goods  by  weekly  instalments  of  a 
xed  sum  :  now,  as  the  seller  must  run  consid- 


LETTERS   FROM 


erable  risks,  his  customers  changing  their  resi- 
dence or  otherwise  defrauding  him,  lie  no  doub 
charges  an  exorbitant  profit,  and  the  poor  are  by 
this  system  tempted  to  buy  beyond  their  means, 
thinking  it  only  so  much  a  week  and  they  can 
spare  it  somehow;  while  if  scant  employment 
or  reduced  wages  follow,  the  tally-bill  takes  the 
very  bread  out  of  their  mouths  ;  and  the  goods 
so  obtained,  and  to  be  paid  for  in  two  weary 
months,  are  perhaps  pawned,  or  (as  my  Oxford- 
street  acquaintance  calls  il)fluedfor  a  sum  little 
exceeding  a  fortnight's  purchase.  Then,  as  the 
enjoyment  of  the  tally  purchase  is  no  longer  ex- 
perienced, the  payment  becomes  exceeding  irk- 
some, and  the  temptation  to  shirk  it  altogether 
almost  irresistible,  and  so  ensue  prevarication, 
trickery,  and  recklessness. 

I  hope  this  system  has  not  yet  found  its  way 
into  America,  for  it  seems  to  me  a  very  bad  one, 
encouraging  both  rapacity  and  improvidence. 
I  assisted  poor  Kathleen  ;  and  she,  with  her 
sister,  waited  upon  Mr.  Greenfield,  and  after  a 
long  debate,  when  they  all  three,  Kathleen  told 
me,  spoke  together,  he  agreed  to  take  nine  shil- 
lings in  one  payment,  in  lieu  of  six  weekly  pay- 
ments of  three  shillings,  and  the  sum  was  paid, 
and  the  tyranny  of  the  tally  ceased  to  oppress 
Mrs.  Margaret  Mahoney. 

This  very  morning  as  I  spoke  of  leaving  Eng- 
land, Kathleen  bewailed  it,  and  I  then  told  her, 
as  I  had  intended  for  some  time,  I  should  be  very 
glad  if  she  would  accompany  me,  and  remain  in 
my  service  in  New- York.  But—"  'tis  an  old 
tale  and  often  told,"  but — there  was  a  young 
man  who  was  a  ship-carpenter  at  Portsmouth, 
etc.,  etc.,  etc.  Well,  Julia,  one  can't  but  sym- 
pathize with  her.  May  her  wedding,  poor  girl, 
be  happier  than  mine.  But  I  must  not  dwell 
upon  that  subject,  and  so  must  close  my  letter. 
Ever,  etc. 


LETTER  XIV. 

Dressmakers.— Exeter  Hall  Oratory.— Evils  inflicted  on 
Dressmakers  uureJresseJ,  the  Wrong  being-  only  in  Lon- 
don.—Otherwise  if  a  distant  City.— Lowell  Offering.— 
Americans  "  know  iiot  seems." — Prevalent  Vulgarisms. — 
Mr.  W.  C. 

Ltnidon, ,  1843. 

DEAREST  JULIA — I  closed  my  last  letter  rather 
abruptly  when  I  was  about  to  tell  you  that  num- 
bers of  young  women  come  annually  from  the 
provinces  to  the  metropolis  to  obtain  situations 
as  domestic  servants.  la  remote  parts  it  is 
more  than  probable  London  is  regarded  as  an  El 
Dorado.  So  and  so  went  to  London,  and  did  so 
well,  and  rode  in  her  own  carriage,  why  not  oth- 
ers 1  "  'T was  ever  thus,  from  childhood's  hour :" 
we  all  hope,  and  hope,  and  hope  to  be  betters 
greater,  happier ;  ana  it  may  be  well  it  is  so,  for 
hope  itself  is  often  happiness. 

Besides  these,  numbers  come  hither  for  a  term 
to  improve  themselves,  as  it  is  called,  in  milli- 
nery and  dressmaking,  or  hoping  to  obtain  per- 
manent employment  at  their  needles.  There  are 
so  very  many  of  this  class,  that  the  glut  of  work- 
people, to  speak  commercially,  enables  the  dress- 
makers to  engage  assistants  on  their  own  terms; 
if  one  girl,  bolder  or  more  sanguine  than  others, 
demurs,  twenty  are  ready  to  accept  the  offer,  no 
matter  how  insufficient.  The  treatment  of  many 
of  these  poor  young  girls  is  almost  incredibly  bad ; 


during  the  fashionable  season  they  are  often  com-- 
pelled  to  work  fourteen,  sixteen,  eighteen,  twen- 
ty hours  out  of  the  four-and-twenty  !  Often  in 
crowded  and  ill-ventilated  apartments ;  nor  is 
there  the  hope  of  commensurate  reward  to  sweet- 
en the  inordinate  toil ;  nor  can  the  making  of 
fine  dresses  for  the  gay  and  prosperous  be  ac- 
counted a  labour  to  delight  in,  so  that  the  pain 
may  be  physicked  and  unfelt,  and  the  work  rap- 
idly and  happily  brought  to  a  conclusion.  On 
the  contrary,  I  fear  the  thoughts  of  the  splendour 
and  luxury  that  will  surround  the  happy  wearers 
of  these  robes,  on  which  the  midnight  needle  is 
plied  sleepily  and  painfully,  may  tempt  the  poor 
drudge — who  may  be  vain,  weak,  and  pretty  too 
— to  long  for,  and  seek  the  enjoyment  of  idleness 
and  amusement  at  any  risk,  at  any  sacrifice.  Of 
all  the  ills  that  ensue  from  this  system,  perhaps 
consumption  is  the  least ! 

The  lacts  are  notorious,  the  grievance  is  ad- 
mitted ;  but  as  the  evil  cries  out  at  their  very 
doors,  of  course  the  English  have  not  taken  one 
single  step  to  abate  it.  A  few  letters  in  the  pa- 
pers, and  a  report  appear  now  and  then ;  but 
their  writers  have  been  humane  to  little  purpose 
(greater  is  their  merit),  and  their  productions 
are  read  and  disregarded,  while  the  distress  in 
Madeira  and  Antigua  called  forth  the  active  ex- 
ertions of  the  charitable  English.  Nothing  but 
a  legislative  enactment  will  do  good ;  for  with- 
out that  the  English  never  remedy  any  social 
evil  among  themselves,  that  is,  any  evil  which 
is  in  the  way  of  business,  and  from  which  profit 
accrues  to  capitalists  and  "  respectable"  traders. 
Parliament,  which  the  English  rather  profanely 
pronounce  omnipotent,  interferes  to  prevent  man- 
ufacturers working  young  children  to  distortion 
or  death*,  to  prevent  the  employment  of  women 
amid  unwholesome  vapours  in  mines  ;  and, 
without  parliamentary  interference,  these  things 
had  gone  forward  unchecked.  O  tender  and  com- 
passionate people ! 

If  it  had  happened  that  the  sufferings  of  these 
poor  dressmakers  pertained  to  a  distant  city — to 
Calcutta,  for  instance,  and  not  to  London — long 
ago  would  the  British  public  have  been  called  to 
"a  sense  of  their  duty"  (I  believe  that  is  the 
phrase)  ;  Exeter  Hall  would  have  been  vocal 
with  the  indignant  declamation  of  the  gentlemen 
and  the  softly-sighed  sympathy  of  the  ladies. 
"  What,"  some  popular  and  curled  darling  of  an 
orator  would  have  said,  "are  we  men,  are  we 
Christians,  nay,  are  we  human  1  Has  our  in- 
fancy known  a  mother's  care,  our  childhood  a 
mother's  precepts,  onr  youth  a  sister's  affection, 
our  manhood  a  wife's  devotion,  our  age  a  daugh- 
ter's solace  ?  And  pause  we  a  moment  to  re- 
dress this  wrong,  this  insult  to  universal  wom- 
an 7"  [Here  the  orator  would  cease,  to  wipe 
his  brow,  gather  breath,  and  give  time  for  the 
applause.]  "Even  while  I  speak"  (he  would 
resume),  "  the  injury  exists  and  increases  ;  this 
plague-spot  on  our  comrdtn  humanity  festers 
worse,  and  spreads  more  widely.  Oh !  then  let 
England,  glorious  England,  spe'ak  peace  across 
the  ocean ;  let  her  say  to  the  luxurious,  and  cruel, 
and  scoffing  and  distant  Asiatic  city — this  shall 
no  longer  be !  Oh !  let  our  meeting  to-day  be  as 
the  olive-branch  the  dove  bore  to  the  ark";  let  it 
portend  the  subsiding  of  the  swollen  waters  of 
tyranny ;  the  restoration  of  virtuous  ease  and  do- 
mestic happiness,  and  long  and  greenly  may  they 
nourish!  Let  us  not  delay  the  blessed  work  a 
single  week — said  I  a  week  1  Not  a  day,  an  hour, 
a  moment.  Can  we  ever  hope  to  prosper  if  we 


AN    AMERICAN   LADY. 


are  longer  quiescent,  longer  supine  1  No :  to 
tolerate  crime  is  to  be  participant."  And  so  on, 
amid  the  flutter  of  moistened  handkerchiefs, 
would  the  eloquent  gentleman  proceed,  only 
much  more  finely  and  figuratively,  to  the  end 
of  the  chapter.  And  others  would  deliver  smart 
little  lectures  from  the  text, 

"  He  who  allows  oppression,  shares  the  crime  ;" 

and  then  would  be  resolutions,  and  subscriptions, 
and  treasurerships,  and  secretaryships,  honorary 
and  corresponding,  and  a  committee,  and  thanks, 
and  much  print.  Some  good  might  flow  out  of 
all  this;  but  as  the  evil  is  only  in  London,  it 
must  work  its  own  cure.  Sensibility,  you  know, 
always  goes  from  home  for  its  objects ;  vulgar 
sickness,  or  privation  revolts  it.  Sterne  bewail- 
ed a  dead  ass,  and  it  is  said  neglected  a  living 
mother;  his  example  has  not  been  lost  upon  the 
country. 

I  believe  a  few  benevolent  ladies  do  inquire  of 
fashionable  dressmakers  if  their  e-mployles  are 
thus  cruelly  dealt  with,  and  are,  of  course,  assu- 
red that  Iteir  assistants,  all  being  persons  of  the 
best  character,  and  of  unsurpassed,  if  not  une- 
qualled skill,  can  command  very  high  salaries, 
and  enjoy  any  healthful  or  even  elegant  recre- 
ation. This  statement  is  ingeniously  twofold 
— it  satisfies  the  well-meaning  inquirer,  while 
the  skilful  introduction  of  the  extraordinary  clev- 
erness and  liberal  remuneration  of  the  work-peo- 
ple accounts  a  little  for  the  not  very  trifling  sum- 
total  of  the  yearly  bill ;  and  so  the  good  lady 
says  that  her  own,  or  her  daughters'  dresses, 
•must  be  ready  for  Lady  A.'s  ball,  or  the  Earl  of 
B.'s  dinner-party,  or  Mrs.  C.'s  sortie  dansanle, 
and  the  matter  ends. 

The  remuneration  received  by  those  who  sup- 
port themselves  as  semptresses  in  this  country 
will  always  be  very  trifling ;  for  there  are  so 
many  institutions  where  plain  needlework  is 
done  at  very  low  rates,  and  so  many  private 
families  where  there  are  several  daughters  at 
home,  anxious  to  earn  a  pittance  to  eke  out  any 
slender  allowance  they  may  have  from  their  fa- 
ther in  addition  to  their  maintenance,  that  high 
wages  are  out  of  the  question.  But  is  this  any 
reason  why  nothing  should  be  done  to  help  those 
employed  almost  entirely  by  the  rich,  and  on 
work  where  taste  and  quickness  are  indispensa- 
ble, "midst  furs  and  silks,  and  jewels  sheen;" 
work  that  cannot  be  undertaken  by  school  or 
charity  girls,  however  skilful  in  the  manage- 
ment of  the  threaded  steel!  The  benevolent 
public  have  not  held  a  single  concert,  ball,  or 
bazar,  to  help  these  suffering  countrywomen  ; 
why,  some  little  sensation  might  be  created  by 
an  announcement  that  a  fancy  fair,  the  proceeds 
to  go  in  aid  of  a  society  to  amend  the  condition 
of  young  needle- women,  would  be  held  in  such 
a  place,  and  some  of  the  articles  veritably  the 
work  of  young  and  pretty  dressmakers,  who  had 
often  laboured  thirty-six  hours  without  sleep  or 
intermission.  I  acknowledge  that  the  English 
do  not  say.  "  E'en  let  them  die,  for  that  they're 
born." 

I  haye  heard  ladies  in  England  express  great 
dissatisfaction  at  Mr.  Dickens's  account  (written 
in  a  not  unkindly  spirit)  of  the  factory  girls  at 
Lowell ;  that  is,  not  of  his  account,  but  of  their 
condition.  Certainly,  the  same  things  cannot 
be  imputed  to  the  female  population  of  England 
employed  in  manufactures  ;  for  Mr.  Dickens 
represents  our  countrywomen  of  Lowell  as  well- 
dressed,  clean,  healthy-looking,  modest,  and  in- 


telligent— qualities  of  which  no  one  can  accuse 
female  Manchester;  but  then  the  joint-stock  pi- 
ano, and  the  circulating-library,  and  "  The  Low- 
ell Offering!" 

"  Well,  but,"  I  contend,  "where  is  the  harml 
Are  music  and  books  to  be  enjoyed  only  by  the 
rich1?" 

"  Oh !  I  don't  knew,  these  things  don't  seem 
proper  for  their  station ;  really,  mill-girls  can 
have  no  business  with  pianos." 

"  Yes,  but  as  their  work  is  quite  as  well  and 
as  regularly  done  as  if  they  could  not  read  a 
page,  or  play  a  note  ;  and  as  they  incur  no  debt, 
and  are  not  even  accused  of  the  least  immodesty 
or  impropriety  of  any  kind — Sam  Slick  repre- 
sents them  as  rather  prudish—  I  do  not  see  why 
they  should  be  blamed  for  enjoying  their  tunes, 
or  their  reading,  or  even  for  contributing  to  a 
periodical.  On  the  contrary,  I  think  they  de- 
serve high  commendation  for  having  tastes  re- 
fined enough  to  enable  them  to  accomplish  and 
delight  in  these  things." 

"  But  surely  you  do  not  approve  of  three  miles 
and  a  half  of  factory  girls  with  their  parasols 
and  silk  stockings  7" 

"Indeed,"  I  pertinaciously  continue,  "I  see 
nothing  in  it  but  a  very  harmless  display ;  come, 
we  must  not  be  too  severe  upon  a  little  love  of 
finery  in  our  sex — perhaps  it  might  be  hot  weath- 
er at  Lowell,  and  no  girl  in  any  situation  of  life 
likes  to  incur  the  risk  of  a  sun-burned  nose." 

"  Well,  it  may  be  so — I  don't  pretend  to  un- 
derstand these  things,  but  it  seems  so  odd." 

That  very  "seems  s*odd"  appears  to  be  the 
full  extent  of  their  offending.  Happily  in  Amer- 
ica we  "  know  not  seems,"  at  least  we  don't  care 
about  it.  Well  would  it  be  for  Lancashire  and 
Yorkshire,  if  the  same  could  be  said  of  the  fe- 
males employed  there — if  a  like  compliment 
could  be  paid  to  Queen  Victoria,  should  she 
visit  any  of  her  great  manufacturing  towns ; 
silken  must  be  less  culpable  than  unwashed  or 
tattered  hose.  "Darn  my  mother,"  Mr.  Dick- 
ens, much  to  his  surprise,  heard  an  elderly  gen- 
tleman say  in  America.  I  heard  a  Lancashire 
lady  say  if  the  mill-girls  in  her  native  town, 
would  do  as  much  to  their  stockings,  it  would 
be  an  important  improvement. 

I  wonder  Mr.  Dickens  should  manifest  sur- 
prise that  a  person's  mother  was  mentioned  in 
any  manner  whatever;  for  the  inquiries  about 
mothers  are,  or  used  to  be,  incessant  among  the 
London  vulgar.  A  stranger  might  at  first  have 
thought  the  English  a  very  filial  people,  but  he 
would  soon  find  out  all  was  in  derision — and  a 
very  sorry  symptom  it  is.  The  labouring  classes 
here,  and  even  many  who  have  the  virtue  to  be 
rich,  always  have  some  pet  phrase;  its  chief 
recommendation  being  that,  properly,  it  is  inap- 
plicable to  any  subject,  and  is  therefore  applied 
universally.  At  one  time  anything  improbable 
was  declared  to  be  "all  round  my  hat."  The 
American  actor,  Mr.  Rice,  taught  the  English  to 
"  turn  about,  and  wheel  about,  and  do  just  so" — 
then  there  were  frequent  allusions  to  persons 
known  as  Walker  and  Mr.  Ferguson ;  I  forget 
how  applied,  and  simultaneously  with — but  I 
protest  you  are  laughing  at  me,  Julia,  at  least ; 

I  see  rou,  profane  one,  all  the  while," 
and  ask  how  /  know  aM  these  things.     I,  whom 
you  used  to  call  aristocrat,  and  the  Lady  Harriet ! 
Why,  I  hear  and  read  of  them,  and  as  "  I  must 
needs  report  the  truth,"  I  sometimes  inquire  of 


LETTERS   FROM 


those  whom  I  consider  skilful  in  such  abstrusities ; 
and  when  I  know  the  things  are,  and  tell  you  of 
them,  I  need  nol  preface  them  with  "  I  am  in- 
formed," or  «  it  is  said,"  or  "  Messrs.  A,  B,  C, 
or  D,  assured  me"  so  and  so.  There  is  humour 
in  the  popular  vulgarisms  of  Ireland ;  meaning, 
in  those  of  America  (I  need  hardly  tell  you  when 
I  say  America,  I  almost  always  mean  the  United 
States) ;  but  in  England,  they  "  never  deviate  into 
sense/' 

Mr.  Dickens  met  some  Englishmen,  small 
farmers  or  publicans,  travelling  in  the  United 
States,  surpassing  Yankees  in  beingdisafreeable. 
And  "  apropos  des  bottes,"  or  "  bgtes"  if  you  will, 
the  other  evening  I  had  the  misfortune  to  en- 
counter Mr.  W.  C :  you  know  the  man,  or 

have  heard  of  him.  I  cannot  tell  how  he  gained 
admittance  into  the  circle  where  I  met  him,  for  he 
professes  to  despise  as  frivolous  all  wit,  and  the 
"  Belles-Lett  res1'  generally;  this  is  because  the 
pompous  fool  (and  numbers  resemble  him  in 
the  profession  and  the  plea  for  it)  has  not  ca- 
pacity to  enjoy  the  elegances  of  life  or  literature ; 
•whether  his  brow  or  intellect  be  narrower,  I  can- 
not determine :  I  almost  wished  for  a  gentleman's 
privilege  to — I  don't  know  what.  He  answered 
all  questions  about  America  by  detailing  some 
paltry  mishap  of  his  own  in  this  country,  he  de- 
fended— what  am  I  saying!  he  pretended  to  justify 
slavery,  by  narrating  the  half-finished  history  of 
some  negro  groom,  which  was  admirably  inap- 
plicable ;  as  the  mathematician  said  of  Paradise 
Lost — it  proved  nothing;  and  when  he  spoke  of 
the  warlike  spirit  whidf  showed  itself  some 
•while  back,  according  to  him,  in  the  United 
States — and  how,  if  Americans  were  insulted  by 
the  British,  and  there  should  be  war.  "You 

mean,  sir,  I  presume,"  interrupted  Sir ,  "  if 

•war  should  unhappify  take  place,  in  consequence 
of  some  national  misunderstanding."  "  Whether 
the  war  arose,"  said  the  prosy  idiot,  "from  a 
national  or  personal  misunderstanding" — I  would 
hear  no  more — I  felt  quite  sick — oh !  why  did  he 


le  to  bestow  his  ignorance  upon  the  people  of 
idon — of  course  they  will  be  ready  enough  to 


com 

London — of  course  t 

represent  him  as  a  fair  specimen  of  our  country, 

•which  most  assuredly  he  is  not.         Ever,  etc. 

Note. — It  is  proper  to  state  that  when  this  letter  was  in 
coarse  of  publication,  the  papers  announced  the  establish- 
ment of  an  '*  Association  for  the  aid  and  protection  of  dress- 
makers and  milliners."  As  the  names  of  many  ladies  of 
rank  appear  as  annual  subscribers  of  ten  or  twenty  shillings, 
it  is  to  be  hoped  with  such  means,  and  under  such  patron- 
age, the  benevolent  purpose  will  be  fully  effected. 


LETTER  XV. 

Churchyards.— Horrors  of  City  Sepulture.— The  Village 
Churchyards.  —  Flower-garden.  —  Cemeteries.  —  Kensal 
Green.—  Mr.  Morison.— Quackery.— Abney  Park.— India 
House.— Treaties  of  Cession  from  Hindoos  and  other  Ori- 
entals.-Worship  of  Juggernaut  and  Gates  of  Somnauth 
to  be  conducive  to  Christianity  in  the  East.— London 
Citizens.— Easily  distinguishable. — Speculation  in  their 
Eyes.— Quakers.— Jews. 

London, ,  1843. 

DEAREST  JULIA  —  Mr.  Dickens  somewhere 
tells  of  the  churchyards  looking  new  in  America. 
You  cannot  possibly  picture  anything  so  revolt- 
ing as  the  old  burial-grounds  of  London;  they 
are  old,  but  most  unvenerable — nature  herself 
seems  to  droop  and  sicken  in  such  places — if 
there  be  a  few  blades  of  grass,  they  are  not  green, 
but  of  an  unhealthy  yellow.  Some  of  these 
places  adjoin  great  thoroughfares,  where  the  hum 
of  busy  life  never  ceases ;  some  are  in  strange 


nooks  and  corners,  as  if  death  were  ashamed  of 
his  domain,  and  sought  to  hide  it;  sometimes 
the  entire  surface  of  the  churchyard  or  burial- 
ground,  for  there  are  several  apart  from  the 
churches,  is  covered  with  flat  or  raised  tomb- 
stones ;  they  do  not  look  like  resting-places ;  they 
present  nothing  holy,  nothfng  that  tells  of  repose, 
no  simple  daisy,  a  tribute  and  emblem  from  early 
spring,  grows  on  a  child's  grave;  no  green  hil- 
lock with  its  mossy  headstone ;  nothing  to  induce 
calm  musing — to  teach  the  "  city  moralist  to  die." 
The  poor  can  render  no  visits  of  affection — all 
they  have  to  give — to  the  graves  of  parent,  child, 
wile,  or  husband,  for  they  are  undistinguishable 
in  the  mortal  mass ;  indeed,  the  dead  of  all  class- 
es in  many  of  these  places  are  like  the  tyrant  and 
slave  in  the  poem,  and 

"  Glossy  familiar,  side  by  side  consume." 

I  had  not  been  long  in  London  when  I  heard  of 
new  and  beautiful  burial-grounds,  and  iu  lovely 
situations;  and  in  my  un-English  simplicity, 
fancied  these  must  be  national  undertakings — 
district  cemeteries, 

"  Far  from  the  busy  crowd's  tumultuous  din, 
From  noise  and  wrangling  far,  and  undisturbed 
With  mirth's  unholy  shouts  ;" 

quiet  places,  where  the  dead  might  at  least  be 
decently  interred,  and  the  old  and  over-crowded 
receptacles  over-crowded  no  farther. 

I  did  the  English  injustice;  only  a  romantic 
girl  (which  I  am  not)  I  was  told  could  fancy  new 
cemeteries  would  be  laid  out,  if  no  profit  were 
to  accrue ;  these  highly-praised  places  are  one 
and  all  commercial  speculations ;  where  the 
wealthy  can  buy  vaults  or  grave-steads,  as  they 
can  buy  houses  or  land.  The  sepulture  of  the 
poor  is  still  unamended;  untaught  in  his  youth 
— uncared  for  in  his  age,  what  matters  it  where 
or  how  the  poor  man  experiences  the  common 
lot  of  dust  to  dust  1  • 

The  farther  you  proceed  from  London,  the  less 
crowded  and  unsightly  these  places  are,  and 
the  distant  village  churchyards  are  often  such 
green  and  tranquil  spots;  a  gray  and  ruined 
abbey  by  their  side  perhaps,  itself  a  fitting  type 
of  decay  and  death;  or  a  small  clear  river  may 
flow  at  the  churchyard's  foot,  while  the  breeze 
stirs  the  funeral  yew,  and  blends  with  the  water's 
murmur  in  melancholy  cadence. 

I  was  particularly  impressed  with  the  aspect 
of  one,  many  miles  hence,  and  when  I  was  ill, 
and  thought  my  bones  would  rest  in  a  foreign, 
though  not  unkindred  land,  I  had  determined 
there  I  would  be  interred;  an  idle  wish,  some 
would  say,  as  if  the  inanimate  body  were  sub- 
ject to  skyey  influences,  and  felt  the  dews  and 
odours  of  rural  summer,  when  it  would  sleep  just 
as  soundly  in  its  hot  city  grave.  Be  that  as  it 
may,  the  wish  is  natural;  and  I  never  argue 
with  your  mere  utilitarian,  who  can  only  argue 
when  others  feel.  Thank  God,  I  am  now  well. 

I  have  visited  two  of  these  new  cemeteries  in 
different  directions  from  London,  Kensal  Green 
and  Abney  Park ;  they  are  simply  large  flower- 
gardens  ;  and  some  of  the  graves  little  flower- 
s.  One  of  the  English  poets — I  believe  the 
present  laureate  (Wordsworth)  —  describes  a 
class  of  his  countrymen  as  men 

"  Who  would  crawl  and  botanize 
Upon  their  mother's  grave." 

These  cemeteries  can  afford  botanic  London 
means  of  carrying  this  predilection  into  practice. 
I  have  often  thought  that  on  many  of  the  graves 
in  P^re-la-Chaise,  where  is  displayed  very  high- 
flown  sentiment,  very  prettily-worded  sorrow, 


AN  AMERICAN  LADY. 


artificial  flowers  are  the  most  appropriate—  but 
I  am  to  write  of  London,  not  of  Paris. 

There  are  a  good  many  monuments  in  Kensal 
Green,  and  the  ground  is  intersected  with  nice 
gravel  walks,  and  many  well-dressed  parties 
were  strolling  about  (principally  ladies)  and 


said,  "  In  the  midst  of  life  we  are  in  death;"  but 
here  the  reverse  seemed  inculcated,  for  there  were 
steam-carriages  and  cheerful  idlers,  and  man's 
trim  and  careful  hand  everywhere,  as  who  should 
say,  "  In  the  midst  of  death  we  are  in  life.1' 

Greatly  to  my  surprise,  no  fee  was  exacted  as 
we  entered  ;  perhaps  if  these  death-gardens  be- 
come fashionable  promenades,  the  proprietors 
may  charge  for  admittance  ;  there  is  plenty  of 
precedent  —  why  should  their  monuments  be 
viewed  gratuitously  1  Why  should  they  not  sell 
their  fresh  air  as  well  as  their  flowery  ground! 
I  think  I  never  told  you  before,  that  in  all,  I  sup- 
pose in  all,  places  like  these,  as  well  as  in  the 
Zoological  Gardens,  in  the  Regent's  Park,  etc., 
etc.,  are  placed  a  number  of  painted  boards  con- 
taining respectful  requests  that  the  visitors  will 
refrain  from  plucking  the  flowers,  etc.  How  is 
this!  Why,  in  so  very  civilized  —  I  beg  their 
pardon,  so  very  polished  a  community,  are  these 
constant  prohibitions  necessary"?  Recollect, 
flower-loving  but  never  flower-stealing,  Julia, 
the  rabble  —  the  mere  vulgar,  are  no  frequenters 
of  these  scenes. 

One  of  the  most  remarkable  mausoleums,  if  I 
may  use  the  word,  in  Kensal  Green,  is  the  family 
tomb  of  James  Morison,  the  Hygeist;  this  was 
the  originator  of  the  famed  Morison's  Pills,  a 
medicine  that  was  recommended  with  an  assu- 
rance and  hardihood  that  commanded  success 
and  riches.  If  the  first  dose  failed,  the  second 
•was  to  be  an  increased  quantum,  and  the  third  a 
farther  increase,  and  so  on  adding  to  the  dose 
until  the  illness  ceased  —  and  cease  it  infallibly 
•would,  one  way  or  the  other.  I  forgot  how  many 
men  Mr.  Morison  constantly  employed  in  the 
manufacture  of  these  pills;  they  were,  or  are,  in 
demand  by  this  enlightened  people  by  wagon- 
loads.  These  things  always  find  their  way 
across  the  Atlantic.  In  England  a  quack  -never 
fails  unless  he  is  untrue  to  himself,  that  is,  if  he 
be  not  sufficiently  outrageous  in  his  professions; 
let  him  promise,  and  persevere  in  promising  the 
impossible  —  let  him  screw  his  courage  to  that 
point,  and  he'll  not  fail  ;  the  yearly  sum  expended 
in  advertisements  alone  by  some  of  those  venders 
of  nostrums  (the  value  of  which  they  assert,  and 
truly,  is  unknown  and  incredible)  must  be  im- 
mense. 

It  seemed  to  me  very  bad  policy  to  erect  a 
monument  at  all  to  Mr.  Morison,  especially  in 
this  open  manner;  it  should  have  been  left  to  the 
public  to  believe,  as  they  will  believe  anything, 
that  his  pills  would  ensure  him  an  age  running 
pretty  considerably  into  another  century.  An- 
other remarkable  monument  is  to  Saint  John 
Long,  who  was  also  an  irregular  practitioner,  I 
believe  that  is  the  polite  appellation,  famous  in 
his  day.  A  third  is  Ducrow's,  the  late  proprie- 
tor or  manager,  I  don't  know  which,  of  Astley's 
Equestrian  Amphitheatre  ;  a  theatrical  structure, 
I  mean  the  monument. 

Abney  Park  is  of  the  same  character.     Dr. 

Isaac  Watts  resided  many  years  in  the  Manor 

House  there,  a  circumstance  which  is  commem- 

orated  in  the  burial-ground.     I  was  told  this 

E 


Manor  House  of  Abney  Park  is  to  be  pulled 
down ;  as  it  is  a  perfect  building,  characteristic 
of  a  bygone  age,  and  as  Watts  dwelt  there  with 
Sir  Thomas  Abney  and  his  family  so  many 
years,  I  marvel  it  has  been  allowed  to  stand  so 
long.  These  cemetery  companies  advertise  their 
respective  terms,  and  endeavour  to  show  their  su- 
periority of  sepulture  over  their  rivals.  "  I'm 
told  there's  snug  lying  in  the  Abbey,"  said  Sir 
Lucius ;  but  these  people  promise  far  more  than 
that,  if  not  quite  so  plainly.  I  think  London, 
with  its  boundless  wealth,  might  at  least  afford 
a  decent  grave  to  its  poor  denizen,  or  even  to  its 
poor  visiter,  for  it  is  th^e  last  trouble  he  can  cause ; 
as  it  is,  he  might  almost  as  well  be  flung  into  a 
plague-pit,  such  as  De  Foe  describes.  Some  of 
the  inscriptions  on  the  tomb-stones  in  these  model 
burial-grounds  appeared  to  me  very  indifferent 
English ;  but  I  am  shy  in  criticising  English,  al- 
though an  unspelling  Englishman  will  criticise 
our  American  phrases ;  but  one  ought  to  be  diffi- 
dent in  criticism,  for  no  less  an  authority  than 
Walker,  of  pronouncing  memory,  has  pronoun- 
ced that  an  Englishman,  to  understand  his  own 
language  thoroughly,  should  also  understand 
French,  Latin,  Greek,  and — Hebrew. 

I  remember  when  we  returned  from  Abney 
Park  we  visited  the  India  House ;  it  is  situated 
in  Leadenhall-s-treet,  and  open  to  visiters  at  cer- 
tain hours  on  Saturdays.  Here  meet  the  Indian 
governors — the  British  merchants,  who  are  liter- 
ally princes.  We  saw  a  collection  of  Eastern 
curiosities,  the  detail  of  which  might  not  interest 

£>u  much.  Mr.  Dickens  states  the  interest  he 
It  in  viewing,  at  Harrisburg,  the  treaties  be- 
tween the  Indians  and  the  Whites — the  poor  na- 
tives not  appendingtheirsign-manual,  but  graph- 
ic— a  sketch  of  the  distinguishing  sobriquet  of  the 
chief,  the  Great  Turtle,  or  the  War  Hatchet; 
indeed,  the  contemplation  of  the  ever-progressive 
change  in  the  being  and  numbers  of  the  red  men 
is  most  painful;  but  when  of  late  the  North 
American  Indians  have  agreed  to  the  cession  of 
territories  on  terms  stated,  they  have  fully  under- 
stood the  nature  of  the  compact. 

Had  I  been  of  the  bolder  sex,  I  might  have 
asked  them  at  the  India  House  to  gratify  me 
with  a  sight  of  the  treaties  of  cession,  on  terms 
of  purchase  or  exchange  agreed  upon  between 
English  officers  and  Hindoo  rulers.  Reahy 
those  who  live  in  such  a  very  glass  island  should 
not  throw  so  many  stones  at  the  people  of  other 
countries.  I  am  convinced  the  Hindoos  are 
happier  under  the  British  rule  than  under  that 
of  their  fierce,  treacherous,  and  cowardly  native 
princes ;  but  the  mildness  or  equity  of  the  sway 
is  no  justification  of  the  means  of  its  attainment 
— the  means  are  easily  defined — a  judicious  mix- 
ture of  force  and  fraud.  The  English  say  their 
settlements  are  the  harbingers  of  civilization  and 
Christianity  throughout  the  East:  to  derive  rev- 
enue from  the  worship  of  Juggernaut,  and  to  re- 
store the  gates  of  Somnauth  seem  odd  ways  of 
introducing  Christianity;  but  'tis  an  odd  people. 
Some  one  applied  to  England  the  poet's  line  on 
man: 

"The  riddle,  jest,  and  glory  of  the  world." 

The  world  may  admit  the  claim  of  England  to  the 
first  two  attributes,  but  as  to  its  being  "the  glo- 
ry"— tell  it  in  Paris — and  my  ears  ache  at  the 
mere  supposition  of  the  voluble  negativeness,  if 
there  be  such  a  word,  that  would  ensue. 

Leaden  hall-street  is  in  the  eastern  part  of  the 
metropolis,  "  the  City,"  as  it  is  called,  London 


LETTERS   FROM 


proper,  as  distinguished  from  Westminster,  Ma- 
rylebone,  etc.  This  is  the  headquarters  of 
trade ;  here,  are  the  men  of  money ;  here  the  fa- 
voured worshippers  and  temple  of  Mammon. 

"  Mammon,  the  least  erected  spirit  that  fell 
From  heaven." 

I  have  heard  ladies  say  it  was  easy  to  distin- 
guish a  city  person  from  one  of  more  western 
dwelling;  they  run  smaller ;  even  the  tradesmen 
are  said  to  differ;  the  citizens  having  less  polite- 
ness, less  manner,  or,  as  they  themselves,  and 
perhaps  truly,  consider  it,  being  more  English ; 
there  is  nothing  in  dress  to  distinguish  them,  ex- 
cept, perhaps,  that  the  citizens  are  a  little  finer;  it 
is  their  bustle,  their  look,  their  air;  like  that 
Horatio  describes  on  the  platform,  just  after 
midnight,  "it  is  a  nipping  and  an  eager  air." 
There,  Julia  dear,  they  say  what  is  far-fetched, 
as  well  as  dear-bought,  is  good  for  ladies,  so  you 
must  be  pleased  with  my  application  of  Hora- 
tio's answer  !  This  air  is  exactly  that  of 

and ,  and,  most  of  all,  of ,  in  New- York. 

GLuakers  are  frequently  seen  in  the  city,  but 
their  wealth  has  given  them  carriages,  horses, 
and  pursuits  at  which  George  Pox  or  William 
Penn  would  groan  heavy  groans.  The  Society 
of  Friends,  it  seems,  were  allowed  privileges  in 
England  long  before  other  dissenters  from  the 
established  Church.  I  once  asked  Mr.  N.  why  7 
He  said  they  were  always  remarkable  for  their 
integrity  and  peacefulnes's.  "  Yes,"  said  I,  "  but 
•were  there  not  the  same  good  qualities  in  some 
other  sects  7"  "  Oh,  I  dare  say  there  might,  but 
then  the  duakers  were  always  a  wealthy  class." 
it  %vas  needless  to  inquire  farther;  the  privileges 
•were  fully  accounted  for.  How  amazingly 
strong  must  be  the  prejudice  against  the  Jews 
in  this  country,  when  even  their  wealth,  with  its 
inalienable  respectability,  has  not  yet  achieved 
what  is  called  their  emancipation!  But  then 
we  must  consider  that  there  are  a  great  many 
very  poor  persons  among  the  Jews,  and  it  is  so 
very  difficult  to  draw  the  line  in  a  legislative  en- 
actment, so  as  to  grant  that  to  the  fitness  of  rich- 
es which  must  be  denied  to  the  sinful  unsuita- 
bleness  of  poverty. 

You  think,  if  the  English  knew  the  strictures 
passed  upon  them  by  foreigners,  by  quick-witted 
Frenchmen  especially,  they  would  be  surprised 
and  hurt ;  "  not  a  jot,  not  a  jot ;"  they  would  at- 
tribute all  blame  to  envy  or  malice;  all  praise 
they  would  consider  becoming,  but  faint ;  and 
let  a  general  character  of  an  Englishman  be 
never  so  true,  not  one  would  cry,  "  That  was  lev- 
elled at  me."  They  smart  at  satire!  They 
amend  because  of  friendly  rebuke  !  How  little 
do  you  know  what  self-conceit  really  is.  Many 
of  their  own  countrymen,  poets  or  preachers,  tell 
them  of  their  faults  full  freely,  and  not  one  be- 
comes less  a  thing  of  the  narrowness  or  assump- 
tion of  self.  The  way  in  which  children  spell 
the  first  personal  pronoun  is  the  very  motto  of  a 
southern  Briton:  " I,  by  itself,  /." 

Ever,  etc. 


LETTER  XVI. 

Queen'*  Drawing-room.— Procession.— Footmen.— A  Tuft- 
hunter.— The  Poor.— English  and  Roman  Benevolence.— 
Illuminations.— Street  Crow  Js  and  Badinage.— Bridges  — 
Banks  of  the  Thames  Eastward. — Greenwich. — Painted 
Hall  —Chapel.— Cost  of  the  Embellishments  dwelt  upon. 
— So  very  English. — Instance  of  Gallantry. 

London, ,  1843. 

DEAREST  JULIA— Certainly  it  was  a  gorgeous 


sight,  and  in  England  only  could  it  be  seen; 
what  lines  of  carriages  along  the  streets — what 
silver  plate  about  the  horses,  and  gold  lace 
about  the  footmen  —  the  coachmen  with  new 
wigs,  and  the  policemen  in  their  best  uniforms 
— the  crowd  was  in  high  good-humour — it  pleas- 
ed the  queen  to  hold  a  drawing-room— the  morn- 
ing smiled,  and  all  the  world  was  gay — I  saw 
the  procession  with  some  friends  from  a  balco- 
ny in  St.  James's-street.  We  have  sometimes 
thought,  in  New- York,  that  the  accounts  we 
heard  of  Great  Britain's  wealth  might  be  exag- 
gerated ;  they  now  appear  to  me  under  the  real- 
ity. Hour  after  hour  rolled  by,  and  still  rolled 
the  carriages.  A  very  few  hackney  vehicles 
were  in  the  line,  and  the  crowd  seemed  inclined, 
to  laugh  at  them  as  misplaced  ;  and  I  remarked 
that  the  windows  were  generally  up,  as  if  they 
who  proceeded  to  their  queen's  presence  at  so 
much  a  mile,  or  an  hour,  did  not  court  the  gar- 
ish eye  of  day.  We  could  see  into  most  of  the 
carriages:  the  ladies  were  beautiful,  and  the 
dresses,  as  far  as  we  could  observe,  elegant  and 
French;  ostrich-feathers  were  worn,  the  most 
stately  of  head-dresses ;  jewels  blazed  as  if  the 
English  magnates  had  a  monopoly  in  diamonds, 
as  some  of  the  Indian  Maharajahs  used  to  have. 
The  gentlemen  wore  court-suits,  a  bag-wig, 
sword,  and  knee-buckles  being  the  chief  varia- 
tion from  their  ordinary  costume;  great  num- 
bers were  in  their  professional  garbs,  and  in 
naval  or  military  uniforms,  blue,  red,  and  green ; 
this  diversity  of  dress  must  render  the  scene 
much  more  picturesque. 

It  is  said  a  Persian  declared  that  the  finest 
gentlemen  in  London  were  those  who  rode  be- 
hind carriages;  but  it  is  finery  run  mad;  such, 
colours,  such  gildings  and  fringes  about  them, 
besides  long  canes  and  powdered  heads ;  hair- 
powder  now  is  hardly  worn  at  all,  except  by 
livery-servants ;  perhaps  some  leader  of  ton  may 
bring  it  up  again,  if  he  finds  himself  becoming 
prematurely  gray;  I  wonder  if  hair-powder  was 
the  fashion  in  Thomson's  day  1  I  think  it  must, 
or  what  means  the  epithet  I  have  marked  1 

"  While,  a  gay  insect  in  his  summer-shine, 
The  fop,  light  fluttering,  spreads  his  mealy  wings." 

Nearly  all  the  footmen  were  tall  and  young,  and 
seemed  well  qualified  to  do  nothing  with  admi- 
rable grace.  A  great  many  of  the  carriages, 
wiih  their  occupants,  were  known  to  Lieut.  F., 

who  was  of  our  party.     "  That's  my  Lord ! 

what  fine  grays !  he's  worth  £10,000  a  year,  and 
saves  more  than  half  of  it.  And  there's  Sir  John 

!  he's  worth  £20,000"  (pounds,  mind,  and 

annually);  "  and  the  next  is  Mr. ,  the  mem- 
ber for  ;  his  election,  they  say,  cost  him 

£4,000,"  and  so  on.  Lieut.  F.,  I  was  told  after- 
ward, is  "  a  tuft-hunter,"  a  pursuer  of  the  great, 
who  are  not  so  easily  caught,  men  say : 

"  Where'er  their  lordships  go,  they  never  find. 
Or  Lico,  or  their  shadows,  lag  behind." 

I  am  not  at  all  inclined  to  think  this  pageantry 
wrong,  for  there  must  be  marks  of  respect  paid 
to  the  head  of  every  government,  whether  repub- 
lic or  monarchy;  but,  seeing  this  astonishing 
wealth,  one  cannot  but  wonder  at  the  squabbles 
about  poor-laws.  One  might  ask  the  great,  as 
was  asked  more  than  a  hundred  years  ago, 

"  How  dare  you  let  one  worthy  man  be  poor  ?" 
But  the  English  always  smile  at  such  remarks, 
and  say  it  is  impossible.    I  am  sorry  for  it;  sor- 
ry that  the  judicious  use  of  money  is  pronoun- 
ced impossible,  for  it  might  easily  be  so  used  as 


AN   AMERICAN    LADY. 


35 


to  ensure  employment  to  the  whole  population. 
I  have  heard  it  argued,  there  always  must  be 
great  poverty  where  there  is  great  wealth ;  there 
was  in  Rome  of  old :  and  was  Rome  of  old  a 
Christian  landl  Did  the  Roman  mythology, 
like  the  Christian  revelation,  command  those 
"  who  are  rich  in  this  world  to  be  ready  to  give, 
and  glad  to  distribute"  and  those  who  had  much 
"  to  give  plenteously  V  I  trow  not.  Rome,  in- 
deed !  It  must  be  a  weak  argument  that  requires 
such  a  buttress;  besides,  the  Caesars  did  give 
the  people  bread  and  shows;  and  some  shows 
are  open  to  the  poor  here ;  but  they  may  see 
them  unfed.  Don't  call  me  caerulean.  "  A  rid- 
dle," indeed,  is  England ;  but  in  such  disregard 
of  God  and  man  is  the  very  reverse  of  "a  jest,' 
or  "  a  glory." 

I  need  not  describe  to  you  the  form  of  present- 
ation at  court,  as  you  will  have  learned  it  in  full 

particulars  from  Mrs. :  in  fact,  she  would  not 

spare  you  a  fold  ia  the  queen's  robe,  nor  a  spar- 
kle in  her  brilliants.  Sedan-chairs,  which  used 
to  be  so  common,  seem  altogether  disused.  In 
the  evening  about  nine,  we  rode  along  the  princi- 
pal streets  to  see  the  illuminations;  they  are  by 
no  means  general,  confined,  indeed,  to  the  houses 
of  the  ministers,  the  principal  club-houses  and 
theatres,  some  of  the  public  buildings,  and  the 
queen's  tradesmen ;  usually  a  large  or  small  star, 
or  crown,  or  wreath,  or  the  initials  V.  R. ;  some- 
times a  line  of  light  runs  along,  tipping  with 
bright  fire  the  whole  balcony;  these  illumina- 
tions are  generally  of  gas,  but  some  of  coloured 
lamps ;  the  glare  is  intense  :  the  club-houses  are 
the  most  resplendent : 

"  Sublime  their  starry  fronts  they  rear." 

The  crowd,  vehicular  and  pedestrian,  was  dense 
— we  could  only  get  along  at  a  walk,  and  that  a 
slow  one. 

Our  friend,  Mr.  Guy,  would  take  a  stroll  to 
observe  the  crowd — not  that  he  considers  the  prop- 
er study  of  mankind  to  be  man  or  men — but  he 
willed  to  go  forth — lost  his  handkerchief,  and  had 
his  corns  ground  to  agony ;  he  was  even  told  "  he 
looked  as  if  he  would  have  the  cholera  direct, 
and  had  better  go  home  to  his  mother."  Mr. 
Guy's  indignant  expostulation,  "  I  calculate, 
stranger,  if  you  were  to  New-Orleans,"  was 
lost  in  the  crowd;  and  when  he  shouted  louder, 
a  policeman  bade  him  "sing  under,  and  move 
on  ;"  he  was  then  asked  "if  he  thought  himself 
small  beer  or  intermediate  1"  and  "  if  he  was  in- 
clined for  a  flare-up,  and  would  find  his  own 
gas  1"  After  much  trouble  he  regained  his  apart- 
ments, ireful  and  malecontent.  Some  men  do  not 
know  how  to  get  along  in  a  crowd;  he  should  not 
wear  such  an  unusual  hat. 

Mr.  Guy'complained  much  of  hisuncourteous 
treatment,'as  he  narrated  it,  and  declared  the  Eng- 
lish hadn't  the  manners  of  bears — which  is  quite 
contrary  to  the  general  opinion.  Were  his  old 
schoolmaster,  Josiah  Smart,  here,  he  said  "he 
might  make  the  better  end  of  a  fortune  by  teach- 
ing proper  English — that  was  a  fact."  I  do  not 
pretend  to  understand  these  questions  any  more 
than  the  gentleman  interrogated;  but  I  am  told 
it  is  considered  clever  to  propound  them — an  in- 
dication that  the  querist  is  a  genius  of  a  superior 
grade.  The  English  are  generally  lively  in  a 
crowd,  and  little  tolerant  to  foreigners.  Mr.  Guy 
adduced  another  proof  how  ill  the  English  spoke 

English;  he  had  an  argument  with  Mr. ,  a 

fashionable  coach-builder,  something  about  a 
steamship,  and  offered  to  back  his  own  opinion 
with  a  wager  of  100  dollars.  Mr. asked  him 


"if  he  was  ready  to  post  the  blunt  1"  Mr.  Guy 
not  liking  to  appear  ignorant  of  the  meaning, 
said  "he  w-ould  prefer  it  sharp;"  and  thtri  it 
seems  the  conversation  became  emangled  beyond 
all  unravelling.  I  wonder  if  there  are  glossaries 
for  the  new  phrases  those  people  coin.  Does  it 
not  show  great  ingenuity  that  they  always  keep 
clear  of  wit  or  sense  7 

On  the  Saturday  before  this  drawing-room 
Mrs.  Mortimer  and  I  accompanied  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Guy  to  Greenwich.  Greenwich  lies  in  the  other 
direction  to  Richmond — Richmond  being  up  the 
river,  that  is.  from  the  sea,  Greenwich  down  it. 
We  embarked  at  Hungerlord— the  bridge  makes 
no  progress ;  it  is  said,  "  not  to  go  back  is  some- 
what to  advance,"  and  the  completion  of  the 
bridge  is  perhaps  expected  on  this  principle.  Wa- 
terloo Bridge  is  the  firs-t  we  pass  through,  and 
beautiful  it  is:  the  summit  is  flat  (not  tlie  case 
with  the  other  bridges),  and  though  there  are 
nine  arches,  and  01  massy  granite,  the  river  is 
spanned  as  by  a  fairy  erection ;  the  next  bridge 
is  Blackfriars,  one  of  the  older  stone  bridges,  and 
when  through  it  there  is  a  noble  view  ot  St. 
Paul's  to  the  left,  rearing  its  lofty  head  above  all 
surrounding  objects,  as  if  it  sought  to  rise  above 
the  contagion  of  the  city.  There  is  no  doubt  that 
thousands  of  native  Londoners  of  all  classes  have 
hardly  deigned  a  prolonged  look  at  St.  Paul's  : 
there  stands  with  extended  arms  the  statue  of  the 
Saint,  and  how  many  who  have  lived  within 
sound  of  the  very  bell  of  the  clock,  hardly  know- 
there  are  statues,  or  where  placed ;  the  figure,  the 
Cathedral,  and  the  written  word  of  the  great 
Apostle  of  the  Gentiles,  are  alike  disregarded  by 
countless  crowds  of  "  this  highly-favoured  Me- 
tropolis." 

The  next  bridge  was  Southwark,  which  is  of 
castiron,  and  spans  the  Thames  in  three  grand 
arches.  Then  comes  the  last  and  greatest,  the 
new  London  Bridge,  of  granite.  All  these  bridg- 
es are  worthy  a  great  city,  and  have  been  rais- 
ed, not  out  of  the  national  means,  but  from  the 
city's  own  revenues,  or  by  the  joint-stock  specu- 
lation of  individuals — such  is  the  wealth  of  Eng- 
land !  If  its  direction  were  generous,  wise,  and 
Christian,  what  a  country  this  would  be  !  Below 
bridge,  as  it  is  called,  we  passed  the  Custom- 
house, of  disagreeable  memory ;  and  the  Tow- 
er, of  historical  celebrity;  and  the  Dock  Ware- 
houses, with  their  accumulated  merchandise. 
The  river  is  crowded  with  shipping,  as  well  as  the 
docks ;  enough,  one  might  almost  think,  for  the 
commerce  of  half  the  globe;  but  then  numbers 
are  laden  with  coal,  from  the  northern  ports  of 
Newcastle,  Shields,  Sunderland,  etc.,  and  some 
have  as  cargoes,  eels— live  eels,  from  the  sluices 
and  dykes  of  Holland  ;  and  stone  from  Scotland 
or  Guernsey  ;  and  provisions  from  all  parts;  and 
choice  fruits  from  Spain,  France,  and  the  Le- 
vant; and  the  richest  wines,  and  the  strongest 
spirits;  everything,  in  short,  for  this  universal 
mart.  "  Notions  of  all  kinds,"  Mr.  Guy  said, 
"  molasses  and  Dutch  dolls  included."  The  great 
city  demands  all  kinds  of  food  for  its  ravening 
maw: 

"Rich dainties  for  the  rich. 
Who  give  the  refuse  to  the  poor  full  piously 
When  that  the  dogs  arc  sated." 

We  pass  over  the  Thames  Tunnel ;  leave  Dept- 
ford  with  its  Government  offices  to  the  right,  and 
n  are  close  alongside  the  hull  of  the  Dread- 
nought, once  a  hundred-gun  ship,  and  now  m~~r- 
ed  in  the  river  and  fitted  up  as  a  hospital  for  s 
men  of  all  nations ;  the  exoense  defrayed  by  voK 


36 


LETTERS   FROM 


pntary  subscription — a  noble  charity,  and  a  fittin^ 
introduction  to  Greenwich  Hospital.  Greenwich 
is  a  place  for  a  country  to  be  prond  of;  a  palace 
devoted  to  the  old  age  of  seamen,  who  have 
earned  the  refuge  amid  fire,  and  groans,  and 
death.  I  was  greatly  interested,  but  did  not  tes- 
tify it  as  Dr.  Samuel  Johnson  tells  us  (in  rhyme 
though)  that  he  did— fancy  him ! 

"  Pleased  with  the  spot  that  gave  Eliza  birth, 
We  kneel,  and  kiss  the  consecrated  earth." 
I  once  heard  an  English  surgeon  ask  what  Eliza 
— Eliza  who  ?  The  dress  of  the  old  pensioners 
is  not  so  removed  from  a  naval  uniform  as  to  ap- 
pear a  badge  of  charity ;  we  did  not  see  so  many 
wooden  legs  as  I  expected  ;  but  destructive  na- 
val engagements  have  been  rare  of  late.  Long 
may  it  be  before  the  old  complement  of  artificial 
limbs  be  again  made  up!  We  paid  our  fees, 
and  saw  through  the  Painted  Hall.  The  ceil- 
ings, and  the  sides  of  the  farther  end  of  the  hall, 
are  painted  with  bewildering  allegories,  by  Sir 
James  Thornhill.  William  and  Mary  seemed 
enthroned  in  a  Jupiter  and  Juno-like  manner;, 
along  the  sides  of  the  hall,  which  are  un-allego- 
rized,  are  hung  paintings  of  sea-fights  and  of  na- 
val- commanders,  presented  by  George  the  Fourth 
and  others ;  few,  it  is  said,  are  of  great  merit. 
I  heard  an  elderly  gentleman,  a  stranger,  in  the 
hall  ungratefully  express  his  belief  that  the  king 
would  be  glad  to  get  rid  of  numbers  of  them. 

We  then  saw  over  the  Chapel,  paying  again, 
of  course :  the  interior  is  elegant ;  here  the  pen- 
sioners attend  Divine  worship;  the  man  who 
shows  it  is  the  chapel-clerk,  and  when  a  boy, 
served  on  board  Nelson's  ship :  the  cost  of  each 
portion  of  the  Chapel,  as  well  as  of  the  whole,  is 
carefully  detailed ;  the  altar-piece,  by  West  (St. 
Paul's  escape  from  shipwreck),  was  worth  j£9000. 
(I  am  almost  sure  the  man  said  £9000;  perhaps 
if  estimated  by  that  favourite  criterion  here,  what 
it  would  bring,  a  cypher  or  two  might  be  struck 
from  the  amount) ;  and  the  statues,  by  Bacon, 
cost  so  much;  and  the  carved  ceiling,  and  the 
marble  floors,  and  the  mahogany  doors,  so  much. 
This  is  so  very  English;  when  an  enormous  out- 
lay is  told  of  in  this  country,  it  appears  as  if  no- 
thing more  need  be  said — it  cost  so  manv  thou- 
sands ! — the  force  of  eulogy  can  no  farther  go. 
There  are  between  five  and  six  thousand  of  these 
pensioners;  but  if  I  remember  the  numbers  right- 
ly, three  thousand  are  out-pensioners,  the  others,  I 
suppose,  are  in  the  Hospital.  The  institution 
has  revenues  and  estates  of  its  own ;  among  oth- 
er estates,  those  of  the  Earl  of  Derwentwater,  who 
was  one  of  the  leaders  of  the  Jacobite  insurrec- 
tion of  1715 ;  his  lands  and  halls  were  confisca- 
ted to  Greenwich  Hospital.  The  governor  is  gen- 
erally some  old  and  successful  Admiral — Sir 
Robert  Stopford,  of  St.  Jean  d'Acre  fame,  being 
the  present  one.  There  are  some  very  old  men 
among  the  inmates,  some  who  fought  with  Rod- 
ney in  1780,  several  of  Nelson's  tars,  and  of  St. 
Vincent's. 

We  walked  in  the  Park  which  adjoins  the  Hos- 
pital—on the  summit  of  a  small  hill  is  the  Astro- 
nomical Observatory.  Some  of  the  pensioners 
were  in  the  Park,  with  telescopes  fixed  so  as  to 
afford  a  view  of  St.  Paul's — we  could  just  espy 
it  with  unglassed  eyes  ;  for  although  the  day  was- 
fine  and  cloudless,  the  metropolitan  vapour  was 
so  thick  as  completely  to  veil  objects  when  only 
a  few  miles  oft".  I  have  heard  of  cities  of  fire ; 
London  is  one  of  smoke. 

On  our  return  from  the  Park  we  somehow  or 
other  missed  Mr.  Guy,  but  returned  without  him 


to  the  inn  where  we  had  called  before  visiting 
the  Hospital;  and,  greatly  daring,  ordered  din- 
ner. Mr.  Guy  soon  joined  us,  odorous  of  tobac- 
co, "  ill-perfuming  scent :"  he  had  stopped,  he 
said,  to  talk  to  a  veteran,  who  had  been  engaged 
in  some  sea-fight  in  the  American  war,  and  the 
old  worthy  smoked  as  they  spoke  together !  The 
most  noticeable  dish  at  our  dinner  was  white- 
bait, a  tiny  fish  caught  in  the  river,  and  fried  in 
quantities  together:  it  is  eaten  with  thin  bread 
and  butter  and  a  little  lemonjuice,  and  accounted 
a  great  dainty,  numbers  coming  to  this  place  and 
to  Blackwall,  on  the  other  side  of  the  Thames,  to 
eat  it :  perhaps  its  being  rather  costly  is  one  rea- 
son it  is  so  highly  praised  ;  the  white-bait  tasted 
to  me  like  a  delicate  pancake ;  it  is  certainly  very 
palatable. 

I  stoutly  resisted  returning  by  an  omnibus, 
and  although  it  was  rather  a  chilly  evening,  we 
re-embarked  in  a  steamboat  and  landed  at  Lon- 
don Bridge,  where  we  engaged  a  hackney-coach. 
As  my  lodgings  were  the  most  distant,  1  was 
alone  when  we  reached  Piccadilly.  I  asked  the 
coachman  his  fare ;  he  said  three  shillings  and 
ixpence;  his  civility  imboldened  me  to  observe, 
as  1  paid  him,  "  But  they  tell  me  you  hackney- 
coachmen  generally  over-charge — how  is  that  T' 
"  Vy,  you  sees  as  how,  marm.  the  fare's  worry 
little  to  keep  two  'osses  and  myself,  and  the  coach 
and  'arness  on ;  but  I  assures  you,  marm  (arid 
ve  came  a  little  vays  out  o'the  road) — /never 
overcharges  a  lady!"  I  have  not  met  such  an- 
other instance  of  gallantry  in  London. 

Ever,  etc. 


LETTER  XVII. 

Phrenology.  —  Anecdote.  —  British  Museum.  —  Vastness. — 
Erudition  of  some  of  the  Visiters.—  National  GallerV.— 
Royal  Academy.— The  Exhibition.— Portraits.-Ad'ver- 
tisements.— Dulwich.— The  Polytechnic  Exhibition. 

London, .  1&43. 

DEAREST  JULIA — I  have  received  your  letters, 
and  again  rejoice  to  learn  that  all  is  well.  Per- 
haps our  next  greeting  may  not  be  through  po^is 
distantly,  but  face  to  face.  Is  it  not  Tom  CoJlin 
who  declared  he  never  could  see  the  use  of  land, 
unless  to  build  and  refit  as  well  as  to  victual  and 
water  ships  7  and  so  I  cannot  see  the  use — the 
great  benefit  of  travelling  and  absence,  which 
many  extol  so  highly,  except  in  the  return,;  part- 

ng  is  not  sweet,  but  bitter  sorrow  in  my  eyes. 

Dr.  C ,  who  seems  to  have  a  lurking  belief  in 

phrenology,  once  told  me  that  the  mania  for  trav- 
elling was  decidedly  organic;  some  men  couul 
no  more  help  being  wanderers  than  could  Cain  ; 
they  must  roam ;  he  called  this  organ  "  locality,"  a 
name  better  adapted,  I  thought,  for  a  bump  of  a 
stay-at-home  quality ;  it  is  located  at  the  corner  oi 
the  eyebrows,  the  inner  corner,  and  was  so  fully 
developed  in  Captain  Cook  that  it  gave  him  a  per- 
ennial frown.  Dr.  C told  me,  moreover,  that 

had  once  a  servant  with  this  organ  very  larsre, 
a  clever  and  active,  but  passionate  man,  "always 
'onging  for  travel  and  novelty  ;  always  anxious 

n  a  double  sense,  for  a  change  of  place;  this  man 
left  the  doctor's  service,  who  heard  nothing  of  him 
"or  some  time ;  at  last  he  found  that  in  a  street 
squabble  his  former  servant  (who  had  been  wan- 
dering in  Scotland  in  the  interim)  had,  by  a  sud- 
den blow,  caused  death  to  a  drunken  fellow, 
whose  head  struck  the  pavement  as  he  fell,  his 
lat  being  off,  and  who  died  shortly  after;  ihe 
lomicide  was  tried,  convicted  of  manslaughter, 


AN   AMERICAN    LADY. 


37 


and  sentenced  to  seven  years'  transportation  ;  the 
convict  heard  his  sentence  with  ill-dissembled 
glee — a  voyage  and  a  long  one — change  of  scene 
— it  seemed  to  matter  little  under  what  circum- 
stances. But  how  fallacious  are  human  hopes ! 
The  case  was  not  an  aggravated  one,  so  the  au- 
thorities sent  the  poor  fellow  to  the  hulks,  in- 
stead of  a  distant  penal  colony  ;  the  confinement 
was  so  irksome  that  the  man  fretted,  and  fumed, 
and  pined,  until  he  became  so  ill  that  he  would 
have  died  had  not  his  term  of  confinement  expired 
when  it  did — "  had  not  that  expired,"  said  Dr. 

C ,  "  he  would !"  Whether  all  this  was  to  be 

attributed  to  an  elevation  above  the  eyebrow, 
you,  lady  fair,  can  judge  as  well  as  I. 

"  I  cannot  say  how  the  truth  may  be, 
I  but  tell  the  tale  as  'twas  told  to  me." 

Dr.  C also  told  me  that  he  knew  several 

persons  who  used  to  pronounce  phrenology  silly 
sooth,  alter  their  opinions  considerably  when  told 
their  heads  presented  a  fine  development — excel- 
lent organs — both  of  intellect  and  feeling !  A 
gentleman  who  had  argued  closely  against  the 
truth  of  phrenology,  treating  the  subject  skilfully 
as  well  as  scientifically,  might  be  rather  startled, 
if  complimented  in  reply  on  the  prominence  of 
the  organ  of  "causality"  (I  believe  it  is  called), 
which  his  forehead  evinced,  while  of  the  posses- 
sion of  the  quality  he  had  just  given  as  promi- 
nent a  proof. 

And.  so  the  rumour  that  reached  me  is  untrue, 
after  the  manner  of  rumours,  and  Miss  Julia — 
is  still  fancy-free.  But  what  a  craving  girl  you 
are — is  not  this  a  pretty  passage  in  your  let- 
ter 1  "  Do  tell  me,  there's  a  kind  creature,  more 
about  London,  and  send  newspapers,  and  see  all 
you  can  before  you  leave,  to  lay  up  stores  for 
long  English  talks  in  New- York.  Give  up  your 
readings  for  your  writings,  for  you've  already 
read  so  much  that  you  may  give  your  library  a 
respite — you  were  'always  such  a  bold  reader, 
too."  Upon  my  word!  "As  I  state  my  opinion 
freely  of  these  people,  I  suppose  you'll  tell  me 
next  I  am  a  bold  letter  writer.  Well,  I  must 
abide  it. 

And  of  what  shall  this  letter  treat  1       nmmm 

"  Which  way,  Amanda,  shall  we  b*nd  our  course  ? 

The  choice"  perplexes  ;" 

but  as  you  are  indifferent  on  the  subject,  I  will 
write  of  the  first  "  lion"  that  comes  into  my  head, 
whether  I  have  seen  it  recently,  or  long  ago — 
which  shall  it  be — the  British  Museum  1  That 
will  do.  I  have  visited  it  a  few  times.  It  fills  a 
large  mansion  in  Great  Russell-street,  once  the 
residence  of  the  Dukes  of  Montagu,  but  great 
additions  have  been  built  to  it  of  late.  As  to  what 
it  contains — it  contains  everything.  Charles 
Sausse  accompanied  me  on  my  first  visit ;  he  is, 
or  was,  studying  ornithology,  and  was  so  full  of 
his  tales  of  his  "  accipitres"  and  "passeres,"  that 
I  was  glad  to  fly  away  from  the  birds.  No  fee 
is  demanded  as  you  enter,  and  the  Museum  is 
open  three  days  in  the  week  nearly  the  whole 
year.  It  is  incumbent  upon  all  persons  to  leave 
their  parasols,  umbrellas,  or  walking-sticks,  with 
a  proper  officer  before  they  can  gain  admittance : 
the  English  poke  objects  with  them,  and  cannot, 
therefore,  where  there  is  valuable  property,  be 
allowed  the  uncontrolled  management  of  these 
dangerous  weapons;  the  gentlemen  would  strike 
the  ancient  statues  to  see  if  they  were  marble  or 
only  composition  :  many  a  man  in  these  places 
seems  to  institute  himself  a  commission  of  in- 
quiry, and  to  think  that  the  tombs,  statuary,  bas- 


so-relievos, bronzes,  animals,  and  all  else,  should 
be  subjected  "  to  feeling  as  to  sight."  * 

The  collection  is  vast;  1  think  that  is  the 
proper  word.  Ancient  and  modern  times  have 
yielded  their  spoils  to  form  it,  so  have  barbarism 
and  refinement — the  savages  of  the  South  Sea 
Islands,  and  the  sculptors  of  ancient  Greece. 
Really  it  is  something  to  leave  the  turmoil  of 
London,  and  find  yourself  amid  the  relics  of  An- 
cient Egypt.  I  am  told,  and  can  readily  believe, 
that  these  places  are  principally  attended  by  vis- 
iters  to  the  metropolis,  with  whom  it  is  a  sort  of 
duty  to  see  all  they  can.  What  cares  the  purse- 
proud  Londoner  for  the  birds  of  Guiana,  the  an- 
imals of  Southern  Africa,  or  the  Elgin  marbles! 
He  finds  himself  nobody  among  them ;  there  is 
nothing  to  sooth  his  self-love,  and  much  to  re- 
buke his  ignorance,  and  so  he  feels  dissatisfied, 
and  calls  a  study  among  the  remains  and  pro- 
ductions of  other  ages  and  other  countries  a 
waste  of  time.  Some  expatiate  on  the  cost  of  the 
objects— .£500  for  this!  £500!  Ridiculous  1 
Why  five  hundred  people  might  have  dined  to- 
gether for  it,  and  well !  You  say  I  dwell  much 
on  this  theme  of  selfishness ;  the  fact  is  forced 
upon  one  so  continually  that  it  cannot  but  be 
continually  mentioned. 

The  ruined  cities  in  Guatamala  do  not  appear 
to  have  any  representatives  in  the  British  Muse- 
um, but  most  other  places  have:  mummies  and 
sphinxes  are  plenty,  and — but  I  might  as  well 
copy  the  synopsis  as  attempt  to  tell  you  what  I 
saw ;  indeed,  I  could  not,  for  the  collection  is 

li  So  various,  that  it  seems  to  be 
Not  one,  but  all  the  world's  epitome." 

I  have  been  amused  with  the  remarks  I  have 
heard.  There  are  Roman  characters  appended 
to  a  bust,  M.  AVRELIVS  :  it  requires  no  great 
learning  to  see  it  is  Roman,  and  I  find  it  is  no 
less  a  person  than  Marcus  Antoninus,  before  he 
was  emperor  known  as  Marcus  Aurelius. 
"Ay,"  said  a  well-dressed  gentleman,  putting 
his  glass  to  his  eye,  and  then  removing  it.  that 
he  might  see  more  clearly,  "ay,  very  good,' very 
fine,  there's  Monsieur  Aurelius."  "And  who 
u'as  Monsieur  Aurelius  1"  asked  a  lady  with 
him. — "  Why,  why — I  don't  exactly  remember" 
(that  is  true,  at  any  rate,  thought  I,  and  here  came 
a  short  pause) ;  "  but  I  believe  he  was  somebody" 
(true  again,  and  another  pause);  "somebody — 
somebody — in  the  French  Revolution."  Mon- 
sieur Aurelius  !  The  zealots  of  the  French  Revo- 
lution often  adopted  classical  names;  but  they 
were  of  republican,  not  imperial,  Rome.  I  do 
not  believe  that 

"  Marble  can 
On  some  occasions  feel  as  much  as  man," 

or  assuredly  a  frown  would  have  corrugated 
the  Roman's  brow  at  the  misnomer.  Some 
bronze  vessels  from  Herculaneum,  I  saw  closely 
observed;  and  then  the  chief  spokesman  of  the 
party  mused,  and  said,  "  I  believe  they  are  what 
people  used  to  drink  their  tea  and  coffee  out  of, 
in  the  old  ignorant  times,  before  they  made  such 
fine  work  in  china  and  delf."  The  old  and  ig- 
norant times  !  O,  much-abused  antiquity!  But 
\he,fine  work  in  China  may  be  admitted.  Then 
I  once  heard  an  oracular-looking  person  sagely 
and  truly  say  of  some  lava  from  Vesuvius, 
"We  have  no  quarries  of  that  sort  in  England." 
I  was  amused  to  see  in  an  old  "  Picture  of  Lon- 
don" I  sometimes  look  into,  that  in  the  eighth 
room  at  the  Museum,  "  the  principal  productions 
are  very  valuable,  consisting  of  minerals  from 
Derbyshire,  Siberia,  and  the  South  Seas."  So 


LETTERS   FROM 


cool  a  classification— Derbyshire  and  the  South 
Seas! 

The  library  and  reading-room  are  not  open  to 
visiters ;  but  any  lady  or  gentleman  may  become 
a  reader  gratuitously,  by  obtaining  a  proper  rec- 
ommendation to  the  authorities :  the  rooms  are 
generally  full  of  readers;  the  shelves  containing 
the  books  would,  they  say,  extend  eight  miles  in 
a  direct  line,  and  those  of  the  Bibliotheque  du 
Roi  at  Paris,  twenty  miles.  It  is  incumbent 
upon  the  author  or  publisher  of  every  book  in 
Great  Britain  to  present  a  copy  to  the  Museum 
library,  as  well  as  to  other  institutions.  Some 
of  the  English  critics  complain  that  the  facility 
of  collating,  of  reading,  and  of  making  extracts 
from  the  books  and  manuscripts  in  this  great 
public  library,  tends  to  the  increase  of  book- 
making;  people  compile  rather  than  compose; 
write  less  out  of  the  fulness  of  their  minds  than 
that  of  these  book-shelves.  Mr.  N.,  who  occa- 
sionally reads  here,  told  me,  and  I  was  glad  to 
learn  the  fact,  which  forms  the  exception  to  the 
rule— glad  of  it,  too,  for  the  honour  of  polite  letters, 
that  the  assistants  in  the  Museum  reading- rooms 
were  uniformly  civil ;  literature  has  softened  and 
refined  them.  What  is  impossible  to  learning  ? 
The  English  admit  that  you  very  rarely  find 
civility  among  the  servants  of  public  bodies; 
why,  they  never  clearly  explain.  I  know  this 
official  incivility  is  very  disagreeable  to  private 
bodies — to  simple  individuals  like  myself,  for 
instance. 

There  are  always  persons  in  the  Museum 
making  drawings  or  casts  from  the  antiquities. 
Many  of  the  visiters  look  quite  bewildered;  if 
admiration  be  expressed  in  gaping,  their  admi- 
ration never  flags.  Mercutio  tells  us  how  a 
sojdier  "  swears  a  prayer  or  two,"  and  so  these 
spectators  may  yawn  a  panegyric.  Provisions 
are  not  sold  in  the  Museum,  as  they  are  in  the 
Tower,  and  other  public  places — a  grievance 
upon  which,  somewhat  to  my  surprise,  I  have 
seen  no  letters  in  the  newspapers.  The  Museum 
can  no  more  be  properly  seen  in  a  day  than  Rome 
was  built  in  one. 

The  National  Gallery  is  another  of  the  places 
gratuitously  open  to  the  people  every  day  in  the 
week  except  Friday  and  Saturday,  when  only 
students  and  artists  are  admitted.  The  paint- 
ings are  in  separate  rooms,  none  of  which  seem- 
ed to  me  larger  than  a  well-sized  drawing-room 
with  us.  I  like  this  subdivision  of  paintings 
better  than  to  view  them  all  in  a  long,  long  gal- 
lery. The  ceremony  of  parasol  and  stick  de- 
livery is  gone  through  here  as  elsewhere.  The 
collection  does  not  oppress  you  with  its  vast- 
ness  ;  indeed,  it  is  pronounced  still  in  its  infancy, 
and  certainly  is  a  very  thriving  child.  The 
paintings  are  chiefly  of  the  Italian  schools — Se- 
Dastiano  del  Piombo,  Leonardo  da  Vinci,  Ra- 
phael, Correggio,  the  Caracci,  Titian,  Claude, 
Guido,  as  well  as  some  of  the  Spanish,  Flemish, 
and  English  masters.  There  is  a  picture  by 
"Both,"  and  I  heard  a  lady  ask  her  esquire, 
"both  who"?"  She  appeared  to  think  it  the 
work  ofbolk  the  artists  between  whose  paintings 
it  was  hung  !  If  ignorance  be  bliss,  there  is 
great  happiness  in  England. 

In  different  rooms  in  the  same  building  Is  an- 
nually opened  the  Exhibition  of  the  works  of 
living  artists — called  the  Exhibition.  If  you 
pass  from  the  National  Gallery  into  the  Exhi- 
bition, the  colours  of  the  moderns  look  so  new 
and  bright  in  comparison.  The  pictures  are  very 
numerous,  and  of  all  kinds:  historical,  imagina- 


tive, architectural  and  portraits ;  sculpture  also, 
and  some  medallions  and  models.  The  great 
majority  are  portraits;  and  busts,  too,  in  the 
sculpture-room,  although  there  are  several  figures 
and  models.  A  great  man):  paintings  also  are 
refused  a  place  in  the  Exhibition.  I  cannot  un- 
derstand how  ladies,  be  they  ever  so  young  and 
fair,  I  mean  unmarried  ladies,  can  allow  their 
portraits  to  be  in  the  Exhibition.  I  heard  a  gen- 
tleman say  before  the  portrait  of  Miss  -. , 

"Humph!  it's  one  way  of  advertising;''  this  was 
rather  a  coarse  remark,  and  perhaps  the  man 
was  a  cynic;  but  why, gentle  ladies,  why  subject 
yourselves  to  such  a  remark"?  Why  let  it  be 
even  insinuated  that — 

"  Ce  Yulg&ire  dessein  TOUS  peut  monter  en  t£te  T" 

Portraits  should  be  for  family  affection,  for  the 
domestic  gaze,  and  not  the  public  eyeglass. 
Would  you  consent  to  submit  to  the  criticism  of 
rude  and  unidead  spectators  7  Ladies  should  not 
give  their  countenances  to  such  a  fashion.  The 
case  is  different  as  regards  the  portraits  of  public 
characters,  as  they  are  in  some  sort  public  prop- 
erty. I  was  surprised  to  see  so  few  paintings  of 
ordinary  life  or  of  humour.  A  shilling  is  the 
charge  for  admission,  and  the  catalogue  costs  an- 
other shilling — a  very  necessary  expense,  as  this 
is  not  a  national  property.  Perhaps  of  all  I  saw, 
I  was  the  most  interested  with  Landseer's  ani- 
mals— one  expects  his  dogs  to  jump  barking  out 
of  the  frames. 

There  are,  besides  these,  a  great  many  «ollec- 
tions  of  paintings  in  and  about  London.  One,  the 
Dulwich  Gallery,  is  a  itery  interesting  exhibi- 
tion— rich  in  Murillos  and  Cuyps;  it  adjoins  or 
forms  part  of  an  hospital  and  college,  founded  by 
the  liberality  of  Alleyn,  the  player  and  contem- 
porary of  Sh'akspeare.  I  do  not  offer  to  describe 
paintings  to  you,  for  it  requires  an  artist,  and  a 
clever  artist,  to  describe  them  so  as  to  interest. 
I  know  nothing  more  disagreeable  than  the  jargon 
of  light  and  shade,  breadth  and  tone,  keeping  and 
chiaro  oscuro,  frem  unskilled  pens. 

Among  a  people  who  think  so  highly  of  them- 
selves as  the  English,  be  sure  portrait-painting  is 
in  great  request,  and  at  all  costs,  from  a  shilling 
to  three  or  four  hundred  guineas.  In  very  many- 
places  a  case  of  small  portraits  is  exhibited,  with 
an  announcement,  "In this  style, five  shillings." 
This  is  another  example  of  the  elliptical  mode  of 
expression ;  it  should  be,  "  In  this  absence  of 
style."  I  have  been  amused  to  observe  hovr 
alike  all  the  portraits  are,  and  by  no  means  in- 
tended for  a  family  party;  a  mustached  war- 
rior with  sword  by  his  side,  and  a  schoolboy 
with  satchel  in  his  hand,  presenting  the  same 
unmeaning,  harmless  look. 

Then  there  are  the  Daguerreotype  portraits, 
taken — but  you  know  the  process — they  do  show 
so  wondrous  grim;  these  are  taken  principally 
at  the  Polytechnic  Exhibition,  in  Regent-street; 
a  place  full  of  models,  and  engines,  and  wheels, 
and  fountains,  and  galvanic  batteries,  and  whir- 
rings,  and  buzzings,  and  headaches.  You  may 
receive  a  shock  from  an  electrical  machine,  and 
be  certain  of  several  from  the  crowd;  and  you 
may  get  into  a  diving  bell  and  go  down  into  a 
pool  of  real  water  (I  wonder  they  don't  advertise 
it  as  rose-water,  it  would  be  so  attractive),  that 
is,  if  you  choose,  and  pay.  Then  there  is  the 
magic-lantern  improved — a  series  of  "  dissolving 
views,"  one  fading  away  into  another  until  you 
see  the  coming  event  cast  its  shadow  before  the 
faint  onlline  of  its  predecessor  has  disappeared. 


AN  AMERICAN    LADY. 


In  short,  this  institution  is  philosophy  made  easy 
but  it  is  not  so  easy  to  be  philosophical  in  such 
a  crush  as  I  have  experienced  there  :  they  prob- 
ably call  it  a  royal  road  to  science — so  let  them 
call  it — but  the  only  right  road  to  science,  learn- 
ing, or  philosophy,  is  a  very  republican  path. 

1  heard  one  youth  say  to  his  party,  and  one  01 
two  of  the  ladies  with  him  had  been  babbling  of 
chemical  affinities  most  learnedly,  "  Let's  cut  our 
sticks,"  and  they  departed.  Such  a  speech  in 
some  parts  of  America  might  be  considered  an 
invitation  to  "  whittle ;"  here  it  is  a  phraseology 
the  young  gentleman  adopted  to  intimate  his  de- 
sire for  the  exeunt  of  his  party.  Mr.  N.  told 
me  the  wittier  persons  (!)  in  this  country  im- 
proved upon  the  saying,  and  talked  of  "  shorten- 
ing their  switch,"  "  making  an  incision  in  their 
cane,"  or  "  amputating  their  timber."  Lord 
Brougham  long  ago  declared  that  "  the  school- 
master was  abroad"  in  England — in  my  opinion 
he  is  lost.  Apropos  of  a  lord,  and  such  a  lord. 
I  will  send  you  in  the  next  parcel  the  very  latest 
"  Peerage  and  Baronetage  of  Great  Britain" 
(Burke's,  I  believe),  and  in  it  your  aristocracy- 
loving  friend  will  find  all  the  information  she 
•wishes  for.  It  is  curious  to  observe  that  in 
modern  peerage  books,  though  the  births  of  the 
fair  daughters  of  their  "  Graces"  and  their 
"Lordships"  are  carefully  recorded,  no  dates  are 
given.  What  can  be  the  meaning  of  so  strange 
an  omission  1  Ever,  etc. 


LETTER  XVIII. 

Rain.— Advertisements  on  Wheels.— Puffs  and  Sandwiches. 
— Boz  keeps  himself  very  close. — Boz  an  Antagonist  of 
the  Pretending.— Faultlessness  of  Money.— Omnibuses. 
—Provisions  for  Christmas  Enjoyment. — Boxing-day. — 
May  Sports. — Streets  at  Night. 

London, ,  1843. 

DEAREST  JULIA — It  rains — not  a  downright 
honest,  windy,  noisy  shower,  but  sly,  perseve- 
ring, and  little-seen,  which  wets  you  far  more 
thoroughly;  just  as  a  smooth,  sedate,  "respecta- 
ble" rogue  is  more  dangerous  than  a  free-spoken 
one  :  an  European  flatterer  worse  than  an  Amer- 
ican. I  sometimes  like  a  rainy  day,  that  I  may 
stay  within  to  write  to  you,  and  feel  I  sacrifice 
nothing.  Are  you  not  gratified  that  1  appear  to 
address  you  as  a  dernier  ressort!  But  then,  if  I 
prefer  you  to  Saunders  and  Otley's  library,  that 
•is  a  compliment. 

To  gaze  out  of  the  window  is  a  great  resource 
in  many  parts  of  London  to  ward  off  the  attacks 
of  the  fiend  ennui,  which  oddly  enough  assails 
the  wealthy  here  more  than  the  people  of  any 
other  country,  while  the  language  has  no  word 
to  express  it.  The  variety  in  the  form  and  shape 
of  the  private  carriages  struck  my  eye  when  I 
first  saw  the  streets ;  some  of  them  were  quite 
new  to  me — one  of  the  latest  seems  called  after 
Lord  Brougham;  but  look  at  those  lumbering 
things,  they  are  advertisements,  advertisements 
on  wheels,  cupola  or  caravan  shaped,  drawn  by 
one  horse,  and  with  announcements  on  th§  sides : 
some  to  inform  the  nobility,  gentry,  and  public 
in  general,  that  there  will  be  a  volcanic  eruption 
or  an  illumination  of  the  Castle  of  St.  Angelo, 
at  the  Surrey  Zoological  Gardens  (the  hackney- 
coachmen  call  these  places  the  'Logical  Gar- 
dens). One  conveys  a  disinterested  piece  of  ad- 
vice to  "  reform  your  tailors'  bills,"  by  employ- 
ing a  particular  tailor;  another  an  equally  dis- 
interested hint  about  furniture,  if  you  marry. 


Then  another  tailor  has  a  revolving  body  on  his 
carriage-wheels,  and  dressed  headless  figures  in 
it,  as  if  it  were  a  parade  of  the  victims  of  the 
guillotine.  Then  comes  one  which  vaunts  the 
excellence  (of  all  things)  of  some  wonderful 
man's  wigs !  Don't  you  think  the  old  poet  fore- 
saw this  1  What  else  do  these  lines  describe  1 

"And  headless  figures  danced  before  their  eyes, 
While  tardy  flames  and  strange  revealings  roll'd 
Right  through  men's  fullest  haunts." 

In  addition  to  vehicular  puffs,  are  puffs  station- 
ary and  peripatetic — I  must  write  learnedly,  you 
know,  when  I  write  of  national  characteristics. 
The  puffs  stationary  or  stationery,  perhaps  it 
may  be  spelt  either  way,  are  delivered  in  the 
form  of  handbills  in  busy  thoroughfares  and  at 
the  corners  of  streets ;  the  men  employed  give  a 
peculiar  and  evidently  long-practised  flourish  or 
jerk  of  the  wrist,  as  they  proffer  the  often-reject- 
ed paper.  Of  course  ladies  always  decline  those 
offers  if  any  impudent  fellow  holds  them  forth-»- 
always  in  silence.  I  never  was  offered  one;  but 
then  I  walk  little  in  the  streets.  I  should  not 
have  known  the  nature  of  those  documents,  had 
I  not  heard  Mrs.  Guy  complain  of  the  annoy- 
ance :  it  seems  Mr.  Guy  regularly  accepts  every 
bill  presented,  to  him  (I  believe  there  is  a  double 
meaning  in  my  phraseology,  derogatory  to  Mr. 
Guy's  smartness — well,  I  did  not  mean  it) ;  but  I 
was  telling  you  I  heard  Mrs.  Guy  complain  that 
sometimes  Walter,  for  she  calls  him  Walter, 
and  playfully  (what  profanation  !)  Sir  Walter, 
brought  home  so  many  recommendation:^  of 
quack  medicines,  and  cheap  dining-rooms,  and 
low-priced  Chesterfields  and  Taglionis,  that  it 
was  shameful ;  as  if  Mr.  Guy  looked  like  a  man 
who  would  dine  for  seven  pence  half-penny,  or 
seemed  ill,  or  as  if  he  wanted  a  twenty-shilling- 
greatcoat. 

By-the-way,  Mrs.  Mortimer  told  me  (entre  ' 
nous)  that  Mr.  Guy  had  consulted  Dr.  R.,  her 
ohysician,  to  be  advised  of  any  means  of  smo- 
idng  tobacco,  which  he  believed  essential  to  his 
wealth,  and  not  retaining  the  unmistakeable 
odour  on  hjs  garments.  Dr.  R.  advised  him  to 
smoke  in  a  bath ! 

The  puffs  peripatetic  are  announcements  print- 
ed in  large  type  and  pasted  on  boards,  some- 
;imes  carried  on  men's  shoulders,  sometimes  two 
of  the  boards  are  slung  on  a  peripatetic,  one 
forming  his  waistcoat,  the  other  the  back  of  his 
coat;  this  Boz  calls  an  animated  sandwich.  I 
hink  Mr.  Dickens  must  be  fond  of  sandwiches, 
for  he  calls  the  deck  of  a  small  steamboat  a  warm 
sandwich.  We  have  heard  that  a  twice-told 
tale  is  tedious;  but  the  impression  produced  de- 
fends not  so  much  (mind,  this  is  not  my  own 
remark)  on  what  is  said  as  upon  who  says  it. 
The  other  day  I  pointed  out  one  of  those  wheel- 
ing advertisements  to  Lady  ,  and  said  I 

thought  such  things  strange.  "  O  !"  she  remark- 
ed, in  a  tone  no  underlinings  or  notes  of  admira- 
tion can  do  justice  to,  "  they  are  from  the  City." 
So  I  believe  they  are  "  Down  Easters,"  as  Mr 
Dickens's  friend  from  the  brown  forests  of  the 
Mississippi  might  call  them — things  of  Cockney 
raising. 

If  one  may  judge  (I  ought  to  have  made  this 
remark  before),  and  it  is  not  an  unfair  criterion, 
of  the  predilections  of  the  English  by  the  bills 
Mrs.  Guy  told  me  her  husband  received,  what 
do  they  indicate"?  That  the  things  most  likely 
to  experience  a  favourable  reception  with  the 
many,  are  quack-medicines,  cheap  dinners  when 


LETTERS  FROM 


display  is  unnecessary,  and  low-priced  coats, 
called  after  noblemen  and  opera-dancers,  and 
made  to  ape  high-priced  ones.  Neither  books, 
schools,  nor  charities  are  thus  recommended; 
and  why  7  Perhaps  any  poor  man,  having  the 
hardihood  to  tender  a  bill  requesting  a  mite  from 
the  crammed  pockets  ol  an  Englishman  for  any 
purpose  altogether  unselfish,  would  run  great 
risk  of  being  caned. 

There  are  some  not  very  trifling  peculiarities 
to  be  observed  in  our  New- York  streets,  of  which 
I  thought  Mr.  Dickens  would  have  told ;  but  he 
has  not.  "  Boz  keeps  himself  very  close,"  said 
a  fellow-traveller  in  the  steamboat  from  San- 
dusky  to  Buffalo ;  "  which,"  says  Mr.  Dickens, 
"  was  true  enough,  for  I  was  not  very  well,  and 
was  lying  down  with  a  book ;"  and  which  I  think 
in  another  sense  was  true  enough,  for  Boz  has 
certainly  kept  himself  "  very  close"  as  regards 
any  novel  information  about  America. 

I  am  so  sorry  Boz  crossed  the  Atlantic — how 
I  did  admire  his  works,  and  so,  indeed,  1  do  still. 
He  is  in  his  own  land  the  great  antagonist  of  the 
pretending,  the  false ;  if  he  chose  to  adopt  the 
monarchical " we"  or  "us,"  he  might  truly  quote 
a  couplet  in  one  of  Scott's  dramas,  applying  it  to 
himse 


a  couplet  in  one  of  Scott's  dramas,  applying  it 


"  For  all  of  the  humbug,  the  bite,  and  the  buz, 
Of  the  make-believe  world,  are  still  forfeit  to  us." 

Why  did  he  write  at  all  about  America  1  The 
worst  of  it  is,  it  cannot  be  forgotten ;  it  is  idle 
to  say,  "Let  bygones  be  bygones,"  when  they 
are  in  print.  As  Kathleen,  who  has  just  left  the 
room,  might  exclaim,  "  Indeed,  ma'am,  and  worse 
luck." 

I  cannot  conceive  how  a  man  of  Mr.  Dick- 
ens's  acuteness  could  to  be  led  to  think,  as,  from 
the  spirit  rather  than  the  letter  of  his  work,  one 
must  conclude  he  does  think,  that  Mammon  is 
as  much  a  God  in  America  as  in  Britain.  "  The 
golden  calf  they  worship  at  Boston,"  says  he,  "  is 
a  pigmy  compared  with  the  giant  effigies  set  up 
in  other  parts  of  that  vast  counting-house  which 
lies  beyond  the  Atlantic;"  he  might  have  added, 
and  less  thaa  a  babe-pigmy  compared  with  that 
before  which  London  bows  the  knee — bows  the 
knee "?  It  is  far  more  than  that,  it  is  a  prostra- 
tion of  the  entire  man.  "Mammon"  is  the 
"Love"  of  the  English,  and  to  his  worship  in 
this  his  capital,  Campbell's  lines  may  be  truly 
applied: 

"  Here  i>  the  empire  of  his  perfect  bliss, 
And  HERE  he  is  a  God  indeed  divine." 

The  mere  possession  of  unused  and  useless 
money  calls  forth  the  adoration  of  the  English- 
man :  I  am  grieved  to  add,  too  often  of  the  Eng- 
lishwoman. Even  very  young  ladies  will  prefer 
a  rich  husband,  be  he  fool  or  braggart,  to  an 
amiable  and  intelligent  one  with  little  more  than 
a  competency.  How  often  have  I  heard  it  said, 

"  Miss is  a  fortunate  girl :  she's  going  to  be 

married  to  Mr. ,  and  he  is  very  rich,  while 

her  fortune  is  a  small  one."  "  Yes,  but  is  he  not 
a  passionate,  quarrelsome  sot,  and  more  than 
twice  her  age  V  "  All  that  may  be,  but  then — 
thirty  thousand  pounds."  There  is  nothing  more 
to  be  said.  Thirty  thousand  pounds  !  Mr. 
Buckingham  gives  an  account  of  marriages  in 
America,  which  shows  that  even  he  is  not  un- 
hoaxable — a  silly  practice  of  our  people. 

The  omnibuses  are  continually  passing  along 
this  street ;  how  they  are  all  filled  is  amazing ; 
but  the  very  clerks  and  warehousemen  scorn  to 
walk  morning  and  evening — they  must  ride  to 


and  from  their  snug  country  boxes,  as  they  call . 
them.  Nothing  shows  the  riches  of  London 
more  than  its  suburbs  in  every  direction:  miles 
of  small,  neat  houses,  without  shops  or  any  ap- 
pearance of  trade  ;  these  are  tenanted  by  persons 
of  small,  independent  means,  by  the  less  wealthy 
tradesmen,  and  the  clerks  and  assistants  in  the 
public  oflices,  the  great  merchants'  counting- 
houses,  the  wholesale  warehouses,  etc.  The 
most  formidable-looking  omnibuses,  which  are 
seen  in  some  of  the  streets,  are  those  that  convey 
persons  in  custody  to  and  from  the  police  oflices 
and  the  prisons;  they  look  like  prison-carriages, 
the  sides  built  up ;  a  policeman,  jailer-like,  at 
the  closed  door;  the  light  and  ventilation  can. 
only  be  admitted  through  the  roof,  very  imper- 
fectly, in  all  probability ;  but  what  matters  it  I 
These  conveyances  are  for  the  poor  offenders; 
if  a  rich  man  be  accused  of  any  misdeed,  he  can, 
be  accommodated  with  a  hackney-coach,  and  a 
policeman  in  special  attendance.  Magistrates, 
as  a  matter  of  course,  express  the  sorrow  they 
feel,  the  pain  that  it  causes  them,  to  see  so  "re- 
spectable" a  man  charged  with  any  offence ;  "  a 
person  filling  the  station  in  life  of  the  accused" 
is,  I  believe,  the  formula  which  prefaces  the 
commiseration.  Riches,  we  are  told,  make 
unto  themselves  wings  and  flee  away ;  here  they 
appear  to  make  unto  themselves  shields  as  well, 
against  which  the  strong  lance  of  justice  and  the 
light  shaft  of  ridicule  are  alike  broken  or  blunt- 
ed. Money  is  not  only  virtue,  but  intellect  and 
grace. 

I  am  told  people  may  live  very  cheaply  in. 
London,  but  I  do  not  find  it  to  be  the  case.  The 
supply  of  provisions  of  all  kinds  never  fails. 
The  markets  where  the  butchers  have  their 
shops  and  stalls  are  places  to  which  ladies  can- 
not go,  but  there  are  occasional  butchers'  shops 
in  the  best  streets.  There  is  seldom  much  dis- 
play in  the  provision  warehouses  (I  mean  in  the 
windows),  though  some  of  the  cheese  and  butter 
shops  are  handsome.  The  fishmongers'  places, 
with  their  cool,  well-watered  marble  §labs.  al- 
ways look  pleasing  to  the  eye,  but  they  are  infe- 
rior to  those  in  New- York.  The  display  of  pro- 
visions at  Christmas  is  wonderful :  such  over- 
fed monstrosities  of  turkeys,  geese,  and  chickens ; 
the  poor  birds  are  confined  and  fattened  perforce 
for  the  London  market — "crammed"  is  the  tech- 
nical word ;  rabbits  like  little  pigs,  and  pigs  like 
Will  Waddle,  inasmuch  as  they  look  like  three 
rolled  into  one.  The  houses  of  some  of  the 
poulterers  and  game-dealers  are  literally  fronted 
with  fowls  ;  the  bright  or  dingy  bricks  are  cov- 
ered with  feathered  creatures  hung  from  roof  to 
basement,  the  windows  excepted. 

Then  such  exhibitions  of  prize-meat !  here 
hangs  the  ox  that  won  the  gold  medal — here  the 
sheep  that  acquired  the  silver  one — and  here  the 
joints  of  various  animals  that  gained  prizes  or 
praises,  they  came  so  fat  upon  the  mart.  Yes, 
there  they  hang,  and  the  pursy  citizen  (pursy  in 
any  sense  you  will)  gazes,  and  still  turns  to  gaze 
upon  them,  and  sighs  thickly  in  anticipation  of 
his  smoking  Christmas  repast, 

"  And  still  with  every  sigh  he  stole 
The  fond  enthusiast  sent  his  soul." 

I  told  you  before  why  eating  was  so  popular — 
so  prolonged  a  pleasure  in  this  country.  The 
English  may  pretend  as  they  will  that  they  are 
not  a  selfish,  sensual  people — at  least,  that  they 
are  unconscious  of  it;  so  M.  Jourdain  spoke 
prose  all  his  life  without  knowing  it,  but  it  is- 
selfishness,  and  was  prose,  notwithstanding. 


AN  AMERICAN   LADY. 


41 


The  observances  of  Christmas  in  London  ap- 
pear lo  extend  little  beyond  dinner  parties  on 
Chri:>tmas-day.  In  some  pans  of  the  North, 
sword  dances  and  customs  peculiar  to  the  sea- 
son still  linger.  Yule-candles  burn  on  Christ- 
mas-eve by  stanch  Protestant  hearths,  while  the 
cheese  is  cut,  being  first  duly  crossed,  and  eaten 
with  the  yule-cake  and  frumenty  ;  something  is 
left  of  the  habits  of  the  past,  lii  the  metropolis, 
beyond  the  dinnerings  and  parties  I  have  men- 
tioned, there  is  hardly  anything  to  indicate  the 
season ;  to  be  sure  the  day  after  Christmas-day 
is  called  boxing-day,  that  is,  people  go  round  for 
their  Christmas  boxes  (or  gifts),  and' housekeep- 
ers are  in  evil  humour.  The  day  is  injudicious- 
ly chosen,  for  the  gentleman  of  the  house  may  be 
bilious  from  his  yesterday's  carouse;  a  state  of 
body  or  mind,  or  both,  which  the  experience  of 
one  of  the  British  essayists  pronounces  the  most 
unamiable  of  all  the  moods  of  man  ;  but  the 
men  of  police  and  scavengery,  parish  clerks, 
bell-ringers,  beadles,  and  all  their  tribe  are  on 
the  wing  for  Christinas-boxes ;  frequent  were 
the  knocks  at  our  hall-door,  and  not  very  brief 
the  colloquies  in  the  hall.  I  thought  1  could 
distinguish  the  knockings  and  mutterings  of  the 
box -people  from  other  callers,  that 

"I  knew 
The  voice  ill-boding  and  the  solemn  sound." 

I  fancy  their  claims  were  not  too  generously 
allowed.  Of  all  these  parties,  only  they  of  con- 
stabular  authority  requested  a  douceur  from  the 
lady  on  the  first  floor,  as  soon  as  they  ascertain- 
ed there  was  a  lady;  when  Kathleen  gave  my 
half-crown  to  the  officer  who  acted  as  treasurer, 
and  who  had  the  somewhat  professional  badge 
of  a  blackened  eye,  she  told  him  it  did  not  ap- 
pear by  any  means  the  first  Christnias-foz  which 
had  been  dealt  to  him. 

Pity  the  old  Christmas  observances  have  been 
so  abrogated :  they  were  enjoyed  alike  by  voung 
and  old,  rich  and  poor,  and  savoured  of  a 
kindly  Christian  spirit ;  age  forgot  its  cough, 
and  poverty  its  privations  ;  these  customs  caus- 
ed a  neighbourly  feeling  throughout  the  land,  and 
therefore  is  it,  I  suppose,  that  they  have  been 
discontinued.  I  do  believe  that  not  a  single 
Bracebridge  Hall,  with  its  true  old  Christmas 
•wassail,  can  now  be  found  in  England. 

The  Whitsun  gambols  also  seem  unknown, 
and  the  May-pole  sports  are  completely  defunct. 
The  dueen  of  the  May  exists  no  longer,  except 
in  poetry,  ballads,  or  ballets ;  a  few  bare  May- 
poles sti'll  remain,  as  if  to  mourn  their  unhoh- 
oured,  ungarlanded  condition,  for  they  may  be 
regarded  as  monuments  of  dead  enjoyments. 

I  must  now  cease  writing,  to  go  forth  and  ex- 
ecute some  of  your  commissions.  I  would  walk 
in  the  streets  much  more  frequently,  for  I  delight 
to  observe  their  ever-varying  scenes,  but  one  re- 
ally cannot  go  any  distance  alone;  I,  at  least, 
cannot,  for  I  am  American  enough  to.  consider 
the  stares  of  strangers  disagreeable  (your  com- 
pliment notwithstanding;  you  can  flatter,  Julia, 
when  you  please) — indeed,  unbearable — so  that 
greatly  as  I  may  be  interested  in  the  busy  haunts 
of  London,  I  do  not  caie  to  snatch  such  a  fear- 
fuljoy. 

The  other  night,  or  rather  morning,  for  it  was 
past  one  o'clock,  as  I  returned  from  a  party,  I 
told  the  man  to  drive  through  some  little-fre- 
quented streets.  It  was  most  impressive ;  the 
close  gas-lights  made  it  more  so,  because  they 
showed  the  solitude  distinctly.  All  was  very 


. 

paper  establishment,  for  instance  ;  Barcl 
Perkins's  brewery,  the  site  of  the  Globe 


still,  and  yet,  though  all  seemed  at  rest,  how- 
many  might  those  houses  contain  that  could 
know  no  repose,  or  but  the  repose  that  more 
imbitters  awakening;  a  mother's  wearied  eyes 
might  be  surprised  by  slumber  as  she  watched 
by  her  dying  daughter's  bed,  and  she  might 
dream  that  her  child,  in  health  and  beauty  un- 
impaired, was  the  pride  of  a  brilliant  assembly  ; 
the  man  of  desperate  fortunes  might  be  the  lord 
of  visionary  thousands ;  or  the  widow  happy 
with  him.  lost  to  her  forever.  Adieu,  etc. 


LETTER  XIX. 

London  Sights.  —  The  Colosseum.  —  Panorama  of  London.  — 
New  Squares  and  Streets.  -A  City  of  Opulence.—  "Dis- 
tance lends  Enchantment  to  the  View."—  Zoological  Gar- 
dens. —  Raising  of  a  Water-rat.  —  Public  Gardens. 

Lyndon,  -  ,  1843. 

DEAREST  JULU  —  I  suppose  no  city  in  the 
world,  not  even  in  proportion  to  its  population, 
can  boast  so  many  "sights,"  or  "exhibitions," 
or  public  haunts  generally,  as  London,  and  of 
every  description.  The  lively  have  their  the- 
atres, the  studious  their  libraries,  the  scientific 
their  lectures,  the  serious  their  missionary  mu- 
seums, the  morose  their  hospitals,  prisons,  po- 
lice-offices, and  criminal  courts,  the  idlers  their 
trifles.  These  varied  exhibitions  do  not  appear 
to  "palliate  dulness."for  the  English,  unless  in. 
crowds,  are  dull,  but  they  certainly  "  give  time  a 
shove."  Many  places  where  business  is  carried 
on,  and  which  are  strictly  private  property,  ranlc 
deservedly  high  as  "  sights."  The  Times  news- 
lay and 
theatre 

(Shakspeare's)  being  within  their  premises,  to 
say  nothing  ol  the  brewery  having  been  Thrale's 
in  the  Boswellian  flays  ;  and  some  of  the  jewel- 
lery and  drapery  stores. 

One  of  the  most  undisappointing  exhibitions 
is  the  Colosseum,  in  the  Regent's  Park.  I  mean 
the  part  which  contains  the  Panorama  of  Lon- 
don, although  I  think  many  of  the  visiters  prefer 
some  miniature  Swiss  scenery  wBich  is  shown 
there,  and  a  Swiss  cottage  ;  but  then  it  looks  for- 
eign, and  the  other  is  only  London,  and  London 
about  twenty  years  ago. 

The  Panorama  is  viewed  from  a  series  of  gal- 
leries in  the  upper  part  of  the  building  called  the 
Colosseum  ;  it  occupies  the  whole  of  a  large 
dome.  You  look  through  openings,  and  glasses 
are  affixed  to  each,  through  which  you  can  look 
at  any  object,  and  it  is  magnified,  as  it  would  be 
from  the  gallery  round  the  cupola  of  St.  Paul's, 
whence  the  view  was  taken.  You  walk  round, 
and  before  you  lies  wide-extended  London;  the 
world's  greatest  city  is  immediately  within  your 
ken,  with  its  thousands  of  spires  and  halls,  its 
crowded  river,  and  mighty  maze  of  streets.  The 
distance  seemed  to  me  admirably  given  ;  you 
can  read  the  signs  in  the  streets  close  to  the  Ca- 
thedral, and  can  only  dimly  descry  the  public 
buildings  a  few  miles  off.  The  artist  was  many 
years  employed  on  his  great  work,  and,  were  I 
an  Englishwoman,  I  should  wish  it  to  be  preser- 
ved in  its  present  state  ;  it  would  be  so  interest- 
ing a  hundred  years  hence.  It  already  shows 
decay  ;  there  are  chinks  and  crevices  (it  sounds 
oddly)  in  the  sky,  and,  on  one  of  my  visits,  I 
saw  a  large  broom  protruded  to  sweep  the  heav- 
ens; no  arm  or  hand  was  visible,  and  this  dust- 
ing of  the  o'erhanging  firmament  had  a  startling 
effect.  The  other  galleries  present  you  London. 


42 


LETTERS  FROM 


as  viewed  from  the  higher  parts  of  the  Cathe- 
dral ;  in  the  highest  of  them  all  I  felt  quite  giddy. 
J  knew  that  it  was  merely  painted  canvass  be- 
fore me ;  I  knew  that  I  was  in  a  show-place  in 
the  Regent's  Park,  admission  one  shilling  each; 
but  still  the  illusion  of  height  was  so  complete 
that  1  was  giddy,  and  had  to  sit  down. 

From  the  topmost  gallery  you  ascend  to  the 
rool— I  mean  the  veritable  roof  of  the  Colosse- 
um— and  look  upon  the  real  prospect  around;  it 
is  quite  bewildering.  You  have  been  so  occu- 
pied in  gazing  on  the  streets  and  parks  inside 
that  you  at  first  feel  as  if  the  Panorama  were 
continued,  and  this  was  another  of  the  phases. 
The  fresh  air,  coming  gratefully  under  your  bon- 
net, undeceives  you  speedily,  while  you  perceive 
that  the  carriages  and  people  in  the  park  and  the 
adjacent  streets  move.  I  think  it  is  an  error  in 
judgment  to  have  introduced  so  many  vehicles 
and  pedestrians  in  the  Panorama,  for  they  must 
be  necessarily  motionless  ;  the  same  with  the 
boats  and  barges  on  the  river.  Why  not  have 
still  London,  sleeping  London,  as  it  is  beheld 
in  earliest  morning  from  St.  Paul's  1  All  the 
reality  of  the  picture  would  thus  be  retained,  and 
this  incongruity  got  rid  of;  the  city  then  has  no 
appearance  of  busy  life,  nor  can  the  artist  give 
it  a  noonday  aspect  by  filling  the  scene  with  fig- 
ures as  uninoving  as  if  they  were  in  the  petrified 
city  of  the  Arabian  Tales. 

Even  in  twenty  years  what  a  change !  Not  a 
single  omnibus  or  cabriolet  is  visible,  but  some 
four-horse  stage-coaches,  which  the  railways 
have  now  rendered  rare.  Mr.  Dickens  describes 
the  coachman  from  Potomac  Creek  as  a  negro, 
very  black  indeed,  dressed  so  as  to  faintly  shadow 
forth  an  insane  imitation  of  an  Englis'h  coach- 
man! Mr.  Dickens's  fondness  for  such  charac- 
ters should  have  led  him  to  rejoice  that  any  imi- 
tation was  offered  of  a  being  for  which  the  next 
age  in  England  may  ask  in  vain,  while  our  ne- 
gro Jehus,  progressing  from  insane  to  rational 
and  perfect  imitation,  may  afford  to  posterity  a 
tolerable  specimen  of  the  nineteenth  century 
coachmen  of  .Great  Britain.  Washington  Ir- 

ving's  sketch  of  one,  I  heard  the  Rev.  Dr. 

(no  mean  authority)  pronounce  perfection. 

When  in  the  Colosseum  I  heard  several  ask, 
"But  where's  St.  Paul's  1"  An  odd  inquiry,  I 
thought,  for  the  view  could  be  taken  from  no 
place  but  St.  Paul's,  and  a  part  of  the  outworks 
of  the  Cathedral  is  under  the  very  eyes  of  the 
spectator  ;  the  question  itself  showed  that  the 
askers  were  not  complete  strangers  to  London. 
London  has  increased  very  much  since  the  era 
of  the  Panorama.  Old  London  Bridge  is  on  the 
canvass,  but  not  a  vestige  of  it  now  remains  ; 
then  there  is  a  city  of  new  squares  and  streets 
•westward — Belgrave,  Eaton,  and  others — all  full 
of  mansions  that  can  only  be  inhabited  by  the 
very  rich,  for  to  pay  the  rent  is  to  possess  a  for- 
tune. I  think  the  space  occupied  by  the  man- 
sions of  the  rich,  and  the  very  rich  alone,  in  and 
about  London,  must  be  greater  than  that  of  the 
greatest  of  our  cities.  The  English  sometimes 
say,  "Oh,  but  these  houses  are  often  occupied 
by  mere  visiters  to  London,  by  people  who  wish 
to  cut  a  dash  for  a  time;  they  change  their  ten- 
ants continually."  It  may  be  so ;  but  there  are 
the  houses,  the  furniture,  the  equipages,  and 
these  things  by  themselves  are  riches,  valuable 
property. 

There  cannot  be  much  health  in  the  prosperi- 
ity  of  London,  or,  rather,  of  England,  or  there 
would  not  be  such  incessant  squabbling  about 


education  and  poor-laws.  Existed  the  disposition. 
to  amend  or  relieve  the  poor,  did  "  I  will"  wait 
upon  "  I  can,"  anything  is  possible  to  such  am- 
pleness  of  means.  If  unoffending  hundreds  are 
pining  for  bare  subsistence — for  bread,  literal 
bread — how  is  it  to  be  justified  that  the  classes 
possessed  of  such  dammed-up  wealth  do  not 
cause  it  to  flow  wisely  and  freely  over  the  land? 
If  the  aristocracy  used  their  money  as  well  in 
aiding  as  they  use  their  tongues  unprofitably  in 
talking  about  the  poor,  in  or  out  of  Parliament, 
what  a  happy  nation  would  England  be !  As  it 
is,  look  into  its  hospitals,  its  prisons,  its  work- 
houses, into  its  suffocating  courts  and  alleys, 
where,  in  every  room,  a  family  struggles  'to 
breathe;  read  official  reports  of  its  squalid  man- 
ufacturers, its  pallid  children  working  hard  task- 
work in  factories  when  they  should  be  in  the 
school  or  the  play-ground,  and  then  talk  of  its 
happiness.  I  know  no  right  a  rich  man  has  to 
complain  of  the  poverty  around  him,  unless  he 
has  personally  laboured  to  diminish  the  sum  ;  if 
he  have  not,  "  the  poor  cat  i'  the  adage"  (what- 
ever it  be)  is  not  a  more  pitiable  animal.  That 
few  do  so  endeavour,  the  prevalent  poverty  suffi- 
ciently proves. 

I  cannot  account  for  this  supineness,  unless 
by  supposing  an  opulent  Englishman  would 
rather  see  his  brethren  want  than  sacrifice  any 
of  his  selfish  and  senseless  pride  in  his  unused 
wealth,  or  abate  a  single  luxury  if  he  do  use  it; 
there  are  exceptions,  no  doubt,  and  the  proverb 
tells  us  the  strength  of  exceptions.  That  "  prop- 
erty has  its  duties  as  well  as  its  rights"  is  what 
the  English  are  fond  of  saying,  while  they  act  a 
negative.  A  quibbler  might  assert  that  when  the 
taxes  upon  incomes,  wines,  servants,  and  carria- 
ges are  duly  paid,  all  is  accomplished ;  these  be- 
ing the  duties  to  which  it  is  admitted  property  is 
subject !  You  say  I  dwell  much  upon  this ;  it  is 
so  glaring  that  I  cannot  but  write  of  the  mon- 
strous anomaly. 

The  liberals  here  form  a  party.  "  Liberal"  is 
a  party-gathering  word ;  they  are  the  Whigs  of 
ola,  more  liberal  than  the  Tories,  it  is  contend- 
ed, in  granting  popular  rights,  but  nearly  the 
whole  aristocracy,  it  appears  to  me,  "to  party 
^ve  up  what  was  meant  for  mankind;"  they 
board  their  thousands  among  themselves,  or 
squander  them  in  their  own  personal  pleasures, 
and  care  less  for  the  labouring  poor  of  England 
han  for  the  lazy  poor  of  the  Western  or  Eastern 
Indies;  it  is,  indeed,  distance  that  lends  enchant- 
ment to  their  views  of  charity  or  munificence. 

Well,  from  the  Colosseum  to  the  Indies  is  a 
wide  digression;  let  me  return.  You  can  as- 
cend to  the  galleries  of  the  Panorama,  if  you 
srefer  it  and  pay  for  it,  in  an  ascending  room, 

here  you  sit  snugly,  and  are  drawn  up  quietly 
/  machinery ;  you  are  duly  informed  that  you 
are  thus  saved  the  fatigue  of  so  many  stairs;  to 
.hose  who  are  neither  lame  nor  weary  this  must 
be  very  gratifying!  I  always  found  foreigners 
at  the  Colosseum,  French  or  Germans  generally, 

hen  I  have  visited  it ;  indeed,  in  most  of  the 
mblic  exhibitions,  but  they  seldom  seem  at 
lome  in  England. 

From  the  Colosseum  we  proceeded  to  the  Zo- 
ological Gardens,  which  occupy  a  corner  of  the 
same  Regent's  Park.  Our  shillings  paid,  we 
ind  ourselves  in  a  large  flower-garden,  amid 
)irds,  beasts,  and  reptiles  from  all  parts  of  the 
irorid.  Here  you  stroll  around  at  your  pleasure, 
nd  observe  the  bears  climb  up  poles  for  bread 
from  the  visitors,  or  mark  the  restless  pacings 


AN  AMERICAN  LADY. 


43 


of  the  panthers,  or  the  cumbrous  movements  of  [  On  Sundays  these  grounds  are  only  open  to 
the  elephants,  or  the  unusual  gait  of  the  giraffes.  |  subscribers,  or  their  orders,  I  believe  it  is;  at 
They  say  ladies  are  generally  fond  of  watching  ;  any  rate,  to  some  privileged  class ;  and,  as  there 
the  gambolling  of  the  apes;  there  is  something:  is  privilege  and  exclusiveness,  the  Zoological 
disgusting  in  it  to  me,  it  looks  so  like  a  carica- 1  Gardens  then  form  a  fashionable  promenade, 
ture  upon  humanity.  The  animals  are  kept  in  just  as  if  the  poor  prisoners,  like  the  better  sort 
separate  cells,  cages,  ponds,  or  stables,  with  of  poor  people  at  large,  showed  best  on  Sundays! 
small  enclosures  adjoining  them,  just  as  suits  I  heartily  wished,  as  we  came  away,  we  had 
their  habits.  I  am  always  sorry  for  the  birds  of  gardens  like  these  in  New- York.  Patience — pa- 
prey  I  see  confined,  they  look  so  moped:  what  tience,  "fe  ban  temps  viendra." 
enjoyment  of  his  existence  can  an  American  Mr.  Guy  (who  was  not  of  our  party)  the  other 
eagle  have  in  such  scant  space  ?  Not  always,  I  day  puzzled,  and  in  reaction  was  puzzled  by,  one 
it  is  evident,  does  "the  prisoned  eagle  die  for  j  of  the  attendants  in  the  Zoological  Gardens; 
rage,"  for  here  they  are  in  tolerable  feather,  but  these  attendants  do  not  show  the  animals,  but 


looking  dull  and  dismal ;  if  they  glance  upward 
at  the  sun,  it  is  despondingly  :  the  vultures, 
which  look  like  the  scavengers  they  are,  appear 
to  brook  confinement  as  badly. 

The  animals  are  numerous,  and  must  be  bet- 
ter here  as  regards  health  than  in  the  close  cara- 
vans of  travelling  menageries,  or,  as  the  Eng- 
lish express  it,  "they  must  be  so  much  more 


comfortable."  Lions,  hyenas,  and  wolves  com- 
fortable !  Well,  be  it  so.  The  giraffes  interest 
ed  me  most  of  all,  such  original-looking  crea- 
tures, with  their  spotted  bodies  and  long  necks, 
towering  so  above  you  that  a  feeling  of  littleness 
might  come  over  Freeman  the  Giant.  I  was  told 


a  giraffe  cropped  the  flowers  out  of  a  lady's  bon- 
net on  one  occasion,  and  ladies  have  since  been 
counselled  to  admire  at  respectful  distance; 
these  animals  walk  out  when  they  please  in  a 

n'  e  of  ground  enclosed  by  lofty  palings;  they 
very  tame  and  quiet,  and  do  not  seem  to 
pine  for  their  African  homes.  A  remarkably 
fine  rhinoceros  stands  in  a  stall  alongside  a  huge 
elephant,  who  occasionally  has  the  luxury  of  a 
batn  in  the  ground  attached  to  his  abode.  And 
there  are  wild  boars,  and  wild  asses,  and  squir- 
rels, and  dogs,  and  foxes,  and  raccoons  (how  1 
thought  of  Colonel  Crocket!),  and  ichneumons, 
and  kangaroos,  and  antelopes,  a  gazelle  also 
(which,  when  the  more  sentimental  cockneys 
see,  they  quote  Moore's  lines),  and  an  elk,  and 
many  fine,  lively  deer. 

The  noise  or  chatter  in  the  room  where  the 
parrots,  macaws,  and  cockatoos  are  is  some- 
times deafening.  Nature  has  reversed  the  char- 
acteristics which  those  scandalizing  creatures, 
men,  say  prevail  in  humanity,  for  among  birds, 
whether  of  song,  scream,  or  mimicry,  the  males 
are  most  proficient  in  noise.  The  colours  of 
many  of  the  parroquets,  toucans,  etc.,  were  most 
brightly  vivid.  There  is  in  a  box  a  boa-con- 
strictor, swathed  in  flannels;  one  morning  he 
-was  found  to  have  broken  his  fast  upon  another 
and  a  smaller  boa — to  have  consumed  his  fel- 
low— a  rare  occurrence,  I  hope,  among  brutes, 
or  even  serpents — as  to  men.  they — but  we  will 
not  enter  upon  that  question  now.  The  gardens 
boast  no  crocodiles,  the  ugliest,  the  most  hideous 
of  created  things ;  the  Mississippi  settlers  would 
be  very  glad  if  the  English  zoologists  would  im- 
port a  few  free-trade  cargoes  of  them  from  the 
shores  of  the  river. 

These  grounds  occupy  a  considerable  space ; 
and  an  archway  is  formed  under  the  carriage- 
road  of  the  park,  through  which  you  pass  to  their 
northern  extremity,  skirted  by  a  muddy-looking 
canal,  called  the  Regent's.  A  little  way  on  the 
other  side  of  this  canal  is  a  round,  squab  hillock, 
called  Primrose  Hill,  which  some  have  ill-na- 
turedly styled  the  Cockney  Parnassus.  Three 
or  four  adventurous  persons  were  at  the  top,  in- 
dulging their  organ  of  locality,  I  suppose. 


walk  about  to  tend  them,  and  to  see  that  no  mi 
chiefs  are  perpetrated,  and  that  all  is  orderly  and 
secure.  It  seems  there  is  an  animal  like  a  very 
large  water-rat  in  the  collection,  which  I  do  not 
remember  to  have  noticed ;  perhaps  it  was  diving 
at  the  time.  Mr.  Guy  was  interested  by  this  am- 
phibious  creature.  "Where  was  the  animal 
raised  1"  he  asked  the  man.  "  He's  never  raised 

-  at  all,  sir,"  was  the  answer;  "we  always  keep 

-  him  down  there  in  the  water,  or  in  his  cave." 
"Do  you  mean  to  say  he  was  raised  in  this 
country,  then  V    But  here  Mrs.  Guy  came  to 
the  rescue,  and  explained  that  her  husband  wished 
to  know  where  was  the  native  land,  or,  rather, 


water  of  the  animal,  and  he  was  informed  ac- 
cordingly. 

The  names  and  addresses  of  the  birds  and 
beasts  are  painted  on  small  boards,  hung  by  each 
den  or  place  of  confinement.  I  suppose  one  may 
call  the  mention  of  "China,"  "New  Holland," 
"  Southern  Africa,"  "North  America,"  etc..  etc., 
their  culdresses.  I  heard  a  most  lovely  little  girl, 
whom  her  parents  called  by  the  rather  unusual 
name  of  Bunny,  term  them  so.  An  address  is 
a  place  where  the  party  is,  or  should  be,  at  home  ; 
and  in  this  sense,  the  names  and  addresses  of  the 
involuntary  sojourners  in  the  Gardens  of  Zoology 
may  be  said  to  be  presented  to  the  visiters. 

There  are  also  the  Surrey  Zoological  Gardens, 
where,  I  am  told,  for  I  have  not  visited  them,  are 
a  good  many  animals,  and  nocturnal  concerts, 
and  spectacles  to  boot.  The  Vauxhall  Gardens, 
something  like  Niblo's,  so  well  known  to  all 
readers  of  sixty-year-old  novels,  seem  now  no 
more,  or  showing  but  a  suspended  animation. 

Then  there  are  a  great  many  places  called 
Tea  Gardens,  where,  Mr.  Griffiths  says,  tea  is 
never  thought  about,  but  people  go  thither  on  hot 
Sundays  to  smoke  and  drink  beer.  I  notice, 
however,  that  he  is  often  severe  on  the  recrea- 
tions of  the  poor;  to  drink  beer  in  a  garden  must 
be  as  harmless  as  to  sip  Maraschino,  or  quaff 
Champagne  in  a  club-house  ;  that  is,  in  my  esti- 
mation —  the  English  think  otherwise. 

At  Kew  are  pleasure-grounds  and  a  Botanical 
Garden  open  at  certain  hours  and  seasons  ;  and 
you  see  a  tall  pagoda,  and  a  place  they  call  the 
Temple  of  Victory,  and  a  ruined  archway  —  a 
•made  ruin  —  but  man  cannot  work  against  time; 
was  told  was  a 
And  there 

are  Botanical  Gardens  also  at  Chelsea,  for  the 
use  of  medical  students  ;  and  very  delightful  gar- 
dens at  Chiswick,  where  the  Horticultural  So- 
ciety are  lords  and  masters,  while  at  their  sum- 
mer exhibitions  you  see  the  most  beautiful  flow- 
ers, and  experience  the  most  ardent  crushes. 
Loddidge's  nursery  gardens  at  Hackney  are  very 
interesting:  so  many  tropical  productions  bloom- 
ing in  Northern  Europe;  the  palm-trees  are  very 
lofty,  eighty  feet,  we  were  told,  but  the  gresn- 


it  is  a  patchwork  place,  and  I  was 
favourite  promenade  of  George  III. 


LETTERS    FROM 


houses  are  constructed  so  as  to  contain  them. 
This  is  private  property.  I  think  we  were  told 
the  pipes,  used  to  warm  the  greenhouses,  would 
extend  three  miles  at  least,  if  placed  in  a  direct 
line.  A  breath  of  cool  air  when  we  emerged  from 
the  world  of  glass  was  very  grateful — and  so  will 
a  rest  be  to  my  fingers  now. 

Ever,  etc. 


LETTER  XX. 

Mr.  W.  C.-Oyster»  and  Wickedness.— Pnblic  Statues.- 
There's  Honour  for  you!— Soot  usurping  the  Uivmity 
that  should  hedge  a  King.— The  Monument,— Modem 
Eastcheap  — Goldsmith's  HalL— Postoffice. — Penny-post- 
age Boon. — Lion-hunting. 

London, ,  1843. 

MY  DEAREST  JULIA — I  am  delighted  to  find 
(curiosity,  in  spite  of  your  grave  animadversions,  ! 
is,  I  contend,  sometimes  its  own  reward),  de- : 
lighted  to  have  ascertained,  beyond  doubt,  that ' 
Mr.  W.  C.  is  an  Englishman,  born  in  Lincoln- 
shire, and  proud  of  being  an  Englishman.    While 
in  this,  his  native  country,  he  allows  himself  to 
be  regarded  as  the  Rev.  W.  C.;  he  has  not  the 
"Rev."  on  his  card— bnt  that's  his  modesty! 
Reverend!    It  is  something  new;  but  he  has  pre- 
cedent, all-powerful  precedent,  for  this  addition 
to  his  baptismal  and  sponsorial  appellations; 
the  Rev.  W.  C.!  a  novel  distinction; 

"  An'  if  his  name  be  George,  let's  call  him  Peter, 
For  new-made  honour  doth  forget  men's  names." 

I  once  heard  the  Dean  of say,  that  anything 

ancient  or  modern,  natural  or  impossible,  might 
be  illustrated  or  mottoed  by  quotations  from 
Shakspeare;  a  farther  evidence  in  proof  that 
William  Shakspeare  possessed  the  greatest  ge- 
nius God  ever  gave  to  man. 

Never  was  such  a  digression  as  from  Mr.  C. 
to  Shakspeare.    America  has  the  unhappiness 
to  be  the  country  of  Mr.  C.'s  adoption,  as  it  is 
that  of  many  Englishmen  who  could  well  be 
spared.    Cooper  has  shown  that  if  the  English 
complain,  as  they  do,  that  their  rogues  run  off  to 
America,  the  Americans  may  much  more  rea- 
sonably complain  that  their  rogues  come  from 
England.     Of  course  you  will  understand  that  I 
do  not  mean  to  attribute  any  moral  or  immoral 
culpability  to  the  Rev.  W.  C.  (reverend I  save 
the  mark  !  for  I  must  draw  a  mark  underneath 
it)  ;  the  Rev.  W.  C.  is  only  disagreeable,  not  dis-  j 
reputable.    I  have  again  had  the  misfortune  to  j 
meet  him  in  society,  and  he  entertained  Dr.  C.  j 
with  a  detail,  a  circumstantial  detail  of  his  recent  | 
illness,  which  he  attributed  to  his  disgust  at  wit-  I 
nessing  the  wickedness  of  London,  and  to  hav-  j 
ing  eaten  too  many  dozen  oysters  !    Sam  Weller  ! 
traced  a  connexion  between  oysters  and  poverty.  | 
I  have  heard  of  some  profane  person  recom- 
mending rum  and  true  religion;  but  of  illness 
resulting  from  excessive  oysters  or  virtuous  dis-  ] 
gust,  I  have  not  heard  before.     Dr.  C.  is  very 
quiet  mannered,  and  in  proportion  to  his  patience  ' 
was  the  prolixity  of  the  narrator — not  a  symptom, 
I  was  afterward  told,  was  spared  the  learned 
physician — 

"  He  thought  he  most  have  died,  he  was  so  bad— 
His  peevish  hearer  almost  wish'd  he  had." 

When  you  hear  of  so  many  dozen  oysters,  re- 
member that  the  English  oysters  are  small,  in 
accordance  with  the  seas  of  the  island.  A  well- 
grown  American  oyster  would  frighten  a  cock- 
ney. 


I  am  always  glad  when  I  can  obtain  Mr^ 
Wilderton  for  a  cicerone,  with  either  Mrs.  \Vil- 
derton,  his  married  daughter,  Mrs.  Munimer,  or 
his  only  unmarried  daughter  Liuiua.  Air.  Wil- 
derton is  so  quaint  a  imniuri.-t;  but  to  walk, 
he  likes  passing  little,  olten  pleading  incipient. 
gout  to  justify  both  to  himself  and  his  family  the 
use  of  his  carriage,  if  only  lor  a  lew  streets — his 
is  that  charm  which  is  ever  a  charm,  age  or  in- 
firmity notwithstanding;  I  mean  perfect  good- 
nature. His  family  resemble  him;  and  he  al- 
ways judges  so  kindly,  so  leniently.  "Ah! 
well,"  the  old  gentleman  will  say,  "  we  must  not 
judge  too  harshly,  poor  John— had  we  been  so 
situated  we  mig'ht  have  fallen  lower.11  How 
poor  is  the  pride  of  philosophy  afier  this! 

I  love  to  walk  abroad  with  Mr.  W.,  lor  he  often 
asks  such  odd  questions  of  the  passers-by  ;  to  use 
an  English  phrase,  "  he  draws  them  out:"  if  we 
happen  to  be  in  one  of  the  squares  containing  a> 
statue,  "whose  statue  is  that?"  is  the  constant 
query,  and  very  rarely  indeed  can  we  learn.  One 
morning,  as  we  loitered  in  Hanover  Square,  he 
inquired  of  several  "who  that  great  creature 
was  T  This  is  a  rather  colossal  statue  of  Wil- 
liam Pitt;  and  he,  Mr.  W.,  made  the  dirty  cros- 
sing from  the  corner  of  the  square  a  plea  lor  not 
going  nearer  to  peruse  the  inscription — he  could 
not  be  informed ;  livery  servants,  postmen,  police- 
men, and  street-sweepers  were  asked  in  vain. 
One  postman  he  recognised  as  the  functionary 
who  performed  the  double  knock  at  his  own  door, 
and  he  stopped  the  limping  official  to  tell  him  that 
his  servant,  by  mistake,  gave  him  a  shilling  short 
at  Christmas,  and  he  now  begged  to  rectify  the 
omission — and  then  he  proffered  the  inquiry  ;  the 
postman  was  perfect  in  ignorance — he  knew  no- 
thing, public  or  private,  of  the  statue. 

"Well,  but  if  you  should  have  a  posthumous 
letter  for  him,  you  would  then  learn  his  name  ?" 

"  Letter,  sir !  what,  him,  sir  1"  (but  seeing  Mr. 
Wilderton  look  grave),  "yes,  sir — certainly,  sir,, 
in  that  case — I — " 

And,  like  Shylock,  he  would  stay  no  farther 
question.  Then  came  by  a  very  spruce  person. 

"We  are  sure  to  learn  now,"  said  Mr.  Wil- 
derton; "behold  the  man  who  takes  me  by  the 
nose  when  the  gout  takes  me  by  the  knuckle" — 
his  barber. 

"  Statue-r,  sir  ?  Bless  me,  yes,  sir,  statue-r7 
Well,  it's  either  Pitt  or  Fox — Fox  or  Pitt,  one 
or  other,  sir,  you  may  depend;  good-morning, 
sir,"  and  away  went  the  man,  sharp  in  razors  if 
not  in  statues.  And  yet  this  statue  was  erected 
in  honour  of  a  powerful  minister,  and  the  persons 
we  questioned  must  see  it  daily.  O,  rare  old  Sir 
John,  though  thy  valour  was  discretion's  self,  full 
bravely  didst  thou  moralize !  "  What  is  honour  ? 
A  word."  An  empty  name,  in  sooth;  but  here 
it  seemed  hardly  that. 

Mr.  Wilderton  says  he  never  could  learn  more 
of  the  figure  in  Leicester  Square  than  that  it  was 
one  of  the  Georges;  and  of  the  one  in  Golden 
Square  (Ralph  Nickelby  lived  near),  he  could 
never  learn  anything;  but  was  once  told  by  a 
lamp-lighter  "it  was  peniccler  like  a  master- 
sweep,  what  lived  near,  and  what  had  feathered 
his  nest — unkimmon  !"  One  circumstance  may- 
be pleaded  in  excuse  for  this  ignorance;  the  elder 
among  those  statues  look  so  black  and  grim  that 
they  may  pass  for  anybody.  Kings  .should  not 
be  represented  as  such  dirty  characters  to  a  mo- 
narchical people.  The  king  in  Hamlet — a  mur- 
derer and  a  villain — declares  that  "a  divinity 
does  hedge  a  king;"  in  the  regal  statues  here,, 


AN   AMERICAN   LADY. 


45 


the  hedge  is  not  divinity — but,  soot;  soot,  the 
offspring  of  smoke,  encases  the  statuary  monar- 
chies of  England. 

Mr.  Wilderton  once  had  to  call  at  some  bank 
in  Lombard-street  in  the  city,  and  Emma  and  I 
accompanied  him.  Alter  putting  us  down  in 
Lombard-street,  he  ordered  his  coachman  to  drive 
about  while  we  walked,  and  we  walked  to  "The 
Monument."  It  was  built,  I  need  hardly  tell  you, 
to  commemorate  the  restoration  of  London  after 
the  great  fire  of  1666;  there  is  a  Latin  inscription 
at  the  base  of  (he  noble  column.  Mr.  Wilderton 
ventured  to  ask  one  or  two  of  the  passers  to  have 
the  goodness  to  translate  it  lor  him  ( he  took  high 
honours  at  Oxford),  but  they  looked  so  very 
glum  be  was  obliged  to  desist.  Thread  Latin, 
indeed — he  must  mean  to  insult  them !  I  am 
told  that  part  of  the  inscription  which  attributed 
the  great  fire  to  incendiary  papists,  has  been 
erased;  very  probably  the  corporation  persons 
never  heard  of  pope  or  his  couplet,  which  was 
keen  enough  to  have  induced  them  to  remove  it 
long  ago— 

*'  Where  London's  column  pointing  to  the  skies, 
Like  a  tall  bully,  lifts  the  head  and— lies." 

This  is  still  called  "  The  Monument,"  and  until 
the  last  few  years  was  the  only  one  in  London. 
"VVe  did  not  ascend  it ;  the  toil  would  be  extreme, 
Mr.  Wilderton  felt  sure,  and  it  would  all  end  in 
smoke.  The  gallery  near  the  top  of  the  Monu- 
ment, to  which  the  sixpenny  spectators  ascend, 
is  now  caged  in,  to  prevent  young  women  in  this 
Christian  and  highly-civilized  country  flinging 
themselves  over  the  railings.  Even  in  their  su- 
icides these  people  have  a  selfish  wish  for  dis- 
tinction more  than  the  French — at  any  rate,  as 
much;  but  unobtrusive  suicides  are  frightfully 
frequent. 

We  then  walked  into  Eastcheap.  Let  no 
Shaksperian  lover  visit  it  now,  if  he  do  not  wish 
a  change  to  come  o'er  the  spirit  of  his  dream; 
the  spot  now  more  particularly  pointed  out  in 
Eastcheap  is  a  public-house  where  there  was  foul 
murder  done  awhile  back.  Goldsmith  and  Wash- 
ington Irving,  as  well  as  the  mighty  master,  have 
made  Eastcheap  familiar  to  us,  but  not  this  East- 
cheap.  If  I  remember  aright,  it  pleased  the  two 
moderns  to  forget  that  the  old  Boar's  Head,  as  well 
as  all  the  region  round  about,  was  burned  in  that 
calamitous  fire  in  1666,  and  their  genius  makes 
us  forget  it.  We  did  see  the  site,  and  had  only 
to  ask  for  it  twice !  Mr.  Wilderton  first  asked 
a  venerable-looking  gentleman  we  saw  get  out 
of  his  carriage  at  what  I  suppose  was  his  place 
of  business,  if  he  could  point  out  to  us  the  site 
of  the  famous  Boar's  Head ;  the  gentleman  did 
not  know,  and  asked  if  it  was  an  old  inn  1  "  Oh," 
said  Mr.  Wilderton,  "I  mean  where  Sir  John 
FalstafT  took  his  ease." 

"Oh  really,  humph!  I  beg  your  pardon,  but 
the  sign  of  the  Sir  John  Falstaff  is — "  I  forget 
where  he  said :  more  bliss,  if  Gray  be  correct. 
We  next  asked  a  man  who  was  painting  a  door 
there,  and  luckily  he  knew. 

We  then  re-entered  the  carriage,  and  called 
upon  a  city  acquaintance  of  Mr.  Wilderton,  who 
•was  to  show  us  Goldsmiths'  Hall ;  this  is  a  mag- 
nificent hall,  situate  in  a  confined  place  behind 
the  General  Postoffice.  It  is  the  property  of 
one  of  the  Trade  Companies  of  London,  and  I 
believe  the  richest;  it  might  be  the  residence  (in 
a  better  situation)  of  any  dignitary  in  the  world, 
and  his  dignity  would  not  be  outraged.  We 
•were  shown  a  large  room  with  portraits  of  Will- 
iam the  Fourth  and  the  present  dueen.  Dowager, 


where  the  company's  dinners  were  eaten — the 
most  important  business  they  appear  to  transact. 
We  were  told  the  cost  of  carpets  and  furniture 
in  other  rooms — their  beauty  was  not  mentioned, 
only  their  price;  that  includes,  as  I  said  before, 
all  other  excellence.  What  eloquence  can  be  so 
panegyrical  as,  "  It  cost  five  hundred  pounds  1" 
Tasteful  people !  Of  course  you  will  not  agree 

with  what  Mynheer said  of  the  English, 

"Dey  am  ridch  in  every  ding  but  dasde,  and 
dasdeful  mosd  in  deir  dinners."  This  from  a 
Dutchman ! 

There  are  a  great  many  of  those  halls  in  the 
city  belonging  to  different  companies  —  Fish- 
mongers, Drapers,  Salters,  Ironmongers,  Sta- 
tioners, etc.,  etc.:  I  could  never  clearly  under- 
stand the  purpose  of  these  companies.  They 
admit  persons  to  their  freedom  and  their  livery, 
whatever  that  may  mean,  but  their  chief  voca- 
tion seems  to  dine. 

From  Goldsmiths'  Hall  we  passed  through  the 
General  Postoffice.  It  was  close  upon  the  hour 
when  the  boxes  are  closed,  and  a  farther  postage 
must  be  paid ;  numbers  were  jostling  each  other, 
to  get  their  letters  posted  in  time.  I  saw  two 
boys  who  bore  between  them  a  large  bag  filled 
with  evening  newspapers,  fling  it,  just  as  the  clock 
began  to  strike,  into  the  recess  where  papers  are 
received;  somehow  the  bag  became  untied,  and 
the  papers  lolled  in  unadmired  disorder  upon  the 
ground.  The  two  boy  bag-bearers,  without  a 
word  spoken  or  a  gesture  of  defiance,  began  to 
fight,  and  hard  honest  blows  they  dealt  each  oth- 
er, until  the  postoffice  people  separated  them. 
They  then  gathered  up  the  papers,  handed  them 
to  the  proper  officer,  and  departed  in  apparent 
amity.  From  their  business-like  way  of  pro- 
ceeding, this  was  evidently  the  mode  the  young 
gentlemen  adopted  to  rectify  any  mishap,  or  ad- 
just any  little  difference  of  sentiment. 

The'  penny-postage  is  undoubtedly  a  great 
boon,  liberally  and  handsomely  accorded,  to  the 
people  of  the  three  dueendoms ;  it  is  the  redeem- 
ing measure  of  the  age.  Oh !  why  should  an  ar- 
istocracy, with  such  possessions  and  such  power, 
let  this  be  almost  a  solitary  measure  of  disinter- 
estedness— why  only,  instead  of  ever  thus  7  I 
fancy  we  in  America  might  learn  something  from, 
the  management  of  the  London  Postoffice. 

Heigho!  I  shall  soon  have  finished  telling 
you  of  London's  sights,  not  that  a  tithe  of  them 
has  been  described;  but  really,  if  you  carry  it 
too  far,  sight-seeing,  lion-hunting,  becomes  the 
most  wearisome  of  all  pursuits  Let  what  you 
vieu-  be  never  so  interesting,  crowd  too  many 
sights  into  too  little  time,  and  you  will  be  greatly 
fatigued,  and  not  delighted  at  all — confounded 
only. 

"  The  sweetest  honej 
Is  loathsome  in  its  own  deliciousness, 
And  in  the  taste  confounds  the  appetite." 

Pleasure  soon  becomes  more  wearisome  than 
business,  if  you  extravagantly  follow  it  —  it  is 
quite  unlike  learning:  one  may  not  say  "  drink 
deep  or  taste  not."  Many  poets  show  this,  and 
as  I  am  in  rather  a  quoting  vein,  not  a  very  un- 
usual occurrence,  perhaps~I  will  cite  chronolo- 
gically, Shakspeare,  then  Pope,  now  Cowper  : 

"Business  is  labour,  and  man's  weakness  such, 
Pleasure  is  labour  too,  and  tires  as  much  ; 
The  very  sense  of  it  forgoes  its  use, 
By  repetition  pall'd ;" 

and  to  conclude  with  an  anonymous  American 
poet, 


LETTERS   FROM 


"  Pleasure  too  much  pursued  is  aye  unblest, 
The  pleasure's  sickness  when  il  sighs  for  rest ;" 

and  so  do  1 — for  my  head  and  my  fingers  ache 
alike.  Ever,  etc. 


LETTER  XXI. 

Palaces. —  Twickenham. — Pope's  Grotto. —  Among  Things 
that  were.— Strawberry  iiill.— Hamptou  Court  Palace.— 
Cartoons  and  Pamtinpj.— Cardinal  Wolsey.— Mr.  Charles 
Kean  —  Monmouth-stieet. —  Foreigners. —  Unrazored.  — 
Cowper.  —  Bazars. —  Much-offending  Cincinnati. —  The 
English  "  Impossible." 

Ltmdon, ,  1&43. 

MY  DEAREST  JULIA — "  Man,"  says  Dr.  Paley 
in  his  strong  way — which  written  now  might  be 
called  coarse — "Man  is  a  bundle  of  habits;' 
and  so  1  suppose  is  woman,  for  1  have  so  habit 
uated  myself  to  describing  to  you  a  round  o 
sight-seeing  that  I  must  even  carry  you  a  little 
farther  on.  You  know  I  like  to  see  the  streets 
and  when  I  find  myself  under  exemplary  gui- 
dance— when  I  am  satisfied  no  harm  or  insult 
can  possibly  befall  me — I  am  courageous  enough 
to  venture  where  ladies  seldom  venture.  Indeed, 
it  is  rather  fashionable  to  affect  ignorance  of  ali 
places  in  London  not  considered  within  the  va- 
rying and  ill-defined  fence  of  fashion.  Russell 
and  Bloomsbury  Squares,  two  of  the  largest  in 
London — and  occupied  chiefly  by  judges,  law- 
yers, and  professional  gentlemen — are  consider- 
ed a  proper  butt  for  the  satire  of  those  who  dwell 
nearer  the  parks— not  the  Regent's  Park,  though, 
for  that  is  not  of  the  fashion,  fashionable.  The 
Parks  of  London,  the  lungs  of  the  metropolis, 
are  so  well  known  from  various  works,  that  I 
need  not  particularly  describe  them  to  you,  though 
perhaps  I  may  some  day.  I  cannot  follow  the 

example  of  the  methodical  Captain  Jabez  R , 

who,  in  a  letter  to  his  sister  at  Albany,  descri- 
bing an  excursion  he  made  from  London  to 
Hampton  Court  Palace,  begins  with  the  sun's 
rising — then  his  own — then  his  early  breakfast — 
and  he  dwells  principally  on  that  alloy  to  pleas- 
ure, the  tolls  ot  the  respective  turnpike-gates  he 
and  his  friend  passed  through  in  a  gig ! 

And  I  have  been  to  Hampton  Court,  next  to 
Windsor  the  most  interesting  of  the  regal  resi- 
dences of  England.  The  queen  is  certainly  well 
palaced — Buckingham,  St.  James's,  Kensington, 
Hampton  Court,  Claremont,  Windsor,  Brighton, 
and  others,  to  say  nothing  of  distant  Holyrood. 
We  proceeded  to  Hampton  Court  in  an"  open 
carriage,  the  way  we  came  from  Richmond, 
through  Kensington,  Hammersmith,  Knew,  etc. 
We  turned  off  short  when  we  reached  Richmond, 
and  stopped  first  at  Twickenham,  three  miles 
farther.  Pope's  Villa  and  Grotto  are  no  more  : 
a  not  very 

"  Distant  age  asks  where  the  fabric  stood," 
and  is  obligingly  shown  the  site.  It  is  so  com- 
mon a  saying  in  England,  "  This  is  the  site  of  so- 
and-so's  house  ;"  and  if  you  inquire  why  the 
house  itself  was  not  there,  the  answer  is  as  ready 
as  a  borrower's  cap,  "  Oh,  the  ground  was  want- 
ed for  something  else ;"  and  as  all  reverence  for 
the  holy  and  the  classical  is  wanting  also,  down 
comes  the  house  of  the  man  of  genius,  and  per- 
haps some  barber  cuts  and  curls  hair  for  six- 
pence, and  sells  authentic  bear's-grease,  in  its 
stead !  We  in  America  are  accused,  and  not  al- 
ways unjustly,  of  giving  too  fine  names  to  our 
towns  !«nd  villages — the  English  seem  to  reserve 
them  for  the  shaving-soaps  and  other  things  in- 


dispensable, as  every  advertiser  will  make  af&» 
davit,  to  a  well-ordered  toilet — no  English  gen,- 
tleman  can  shave  nowadays  unless  in  Greek  ! 

We  saw  the  monument  in  Twickenham 
Church,  which  Bishop  Warburton  erected  to 
Pope — it  is  above  a  side-gallery;  also  the  spot 
where  lies  the  feared  and  flattered  of  princes  and 
nobles,  a  scourge  of  dunces,  and  a  magnificent 
egotist.  Some  lines  of  the  p8et  breathe  a  strain 
of  prophecy  (I  have  been  told  that  the  same  word 
in  Latin  signifies  both  poet  and  prophet) ;  they 
warn  thence  his  countrymen ;  and  so  intimate  the 
gradual  decay  and  destruction  of  his  grotto. 

"  Approach  ;  but  awful !  lo !  th'  Egerian  grot, 
Where,  nobly  pensive,  St.  John  sat  and  thought ; 
Where  British  sighs  from  dying  Wyndham  stole, 
And  the  bright  name  was  shot  through  Marchmont's  soul. 
Let  such,  such  only,  tread  this  sacred  floor 
Who  dare  to  love  their  country,  and  be  poor." 

As  not  one  in  ten  thousand  of  modern  English- 
men could  enter  the  grotto  if  the  poet's  injunc- 
tion were  at  all  regarded,  perhaps  its  demolition 
was  a  proper  measure :  better  than  its  continuous 
desecration. 

On  our  way  to  Twickenham  we  passed  Straw- 
berry Hill,  a  nondescript-looking,  and  therefore 
characteristic,  house.  Here  Horace  Walpole 
collected  his  paintings,  and  antiques,  and  fur- 
niture, and  china,  and  nondescripts;  the  which 
he  hoped,  maybe,  would  long  be  retained  in  his 
mansion,  his  family,  or  his  country ;  Apollo,  or 
whatever  classic  deity  he  invoked, 

"  Heard  but  half  his  prayer, 
The  rest  he  bade  the  winds  disperse  in  empty  air ;" 

and  my  Lord  Waldegrave  dispersed  the  collec- 
tion to  all  parts  of  the  world.  From  Twicken- 
ham we  proceeded  through  Bushy  Park,  where 
resides  that  truly  Christian  and  charitable  lady, 
the  Queen  Dowager;  and  we  pass  through  a 
magnificent  avenue  of  chestnut-trees,  and  we  are 
soon  at  Hampton  Court  Palace.  What  a  noble 
front !  What  noble  quadrangles !  There  it 
stands — a  bribe  for  the  Eighth  Harry — a  prison 
for  the  First  Charles !  Not  in  its  ancient  state, 
however,  for  considerable  fditions  were  made  to 
it  by  Sir  Christopher  Wren.  And  you  may 
stroll  at  leisure  along  the  grounds,  or  into  the 
Palace,  unquestioned  and  unobstructed.  This 
"s  as  it  should  be ;  and  as  no  injury  accrues  to 
any  part  of  the  property,  why  close  other  places 
on  the  plea  of  apprehended  mutilation  1 

The  paintings  are  a  long  list,  and  a  long  sum- 
mer's day  is  all  too  short  to  see  them.  Here  are 
the  far-lamed  Cartoons  of  Raphael.  I  cannot 
describe  or  criticise,  only  feel  them — feel  their 
tranquillizing  influence,  and  wish  to  feel  it  and 
muse  alone.  Lord  Byron  gazed  around  him  in 
he  gallery  at  Florence,  until  he  was  "  dazzled 
and  drunk  with  beauty."  Mr.  Dickens,  when  he 
gazed  upon  that  wonder  of  two  worlds  (the  old 
as  the  new),  the  Falls  of  Niagara,  felt  his  mood 
swayed  very  differently,  for  he  tells  of  no  mental 
or  visual  dazzlement  or  drunkenness,  but  of  peace 
and  soberness.  But  Hampton  Court — here  also 
re  fine  paintings  in  distemper,  by  Andrea  Man- 
egna,  a  name  unfamiliar  to  English  ears;  and 
speaking-looking  portraits,  by  Titian  ;  and  proofs 
how  Sir  Peter  Lely  stole  sleepy  eyes  and  wrought 
on  animated  canvass.  King  Charles's  Beauties, 
>othey  are  called,  are  here;  very  beautiful  they 
nay  be,  and  I  fear  their  praise  ends  there.  A 
ady  can  have  little  pleasure  in  looking  upon 
hem;  but  I  could  not  help  whispering  to  Mrs. 
Mortimer,  that  handsome  as  they  might  be,  I 


AN  AMERICAN  LADY. 


would  say  of  them  as  Lear  of  Mad  Tom, 
"  Only,  I  do  not  like  the  fashion  of  their  gar- 
ments." 

I  wonder  the  late  British  sovereigns  have  not 
resided  here,  for  here  is  everything  to  render  an 
abode  a  pleasant  one.  It  was  a  favourite  dwell- 
ing-place with  that  glum  person  William  the 
Third,  and  of  his  successor  "  great  Anna,"  and 
her  successor,  George  the  First,  who  certainly 
had  one  of  the  oddest  qualifications  for  a  ruler — 
he  spoke  no  English— did  not  understand  the 
language  of  the  people  he  was  called  upon  to 
govern !  To  monarchise  must  be  so  very  easy. 
I  believe  George  the  Second  was  the  last  of  the 
sovereigns  who  resided  here  for  any  continuance. 

The  ponds  are  very  fine,  and  the  gold  and  sil- 
ver fish  swim  to  the  water's  edge,  expecting  con- 
tributions from  the  public,  and  who  can  refuse  it 
to  such  innocent  sinecuristsl  Then  we  saw 
the  immense  vine — a  whole  vintage  in  itself—- 
the grapes  are  sent  to  her  majesty's  table ;  the 
gardens  are  extensive ;  and  there  are  two  short 
rows  of  trees  curiously  interlaced  and  matted  to- 
gether in  their  upper  branches,  so  as  to  fling  a 
deep  gloom  on  the  path  below ;  this  was  a  fa- 
vourite walk,  we  were  told,  of  dueen  Mary — 
the  Mary  of  William  the  Third.  I  apprehend 
she  had  not  feeling  enough  to  walk  there  musing 
sadly  on  her  dethroned  parent.  And  there  is  the 
Maze,  nearly  similar  to  that  in  the  private  gar- 
den of  Mr. at ;  any  one  may  purchase 

sixpenny-worth  of  puzzlement  in  the  Maze.  I 
would  have  liked  well  enough  an  attempt  to 
overcome  its  difficulties,  had  only  our  party  ob- 


walk  almost  anywhere,  or  I  meant  to  tell  you  so, 
if  his  carriage  could  be  kept  in  view.  Well,  on, 
this  occasion,  we  got  out  of  it  a  little  below  St. 
Giles's  Church.  St.  Giles's  being,  I  am  told,  the 
Faubourg,  if  1  may  use  the  word,  the  most  re- 
sembling, but  surpassing,  the  while,  the  Five 
Points  of  New-  York.  We  walked  along  Mon- 
mouth-street,  the  Monmouth-street  which  has  be- 
come proverbial  for  second-hand  finery  — 

"  Where  tarnished  lace  and  ruffles  black, 
And  velvet  coat  from  gallant's  back," 

used  no  doubt  to  be  exposed  of  old  ;  but  now, 
though  there  are  second-hand  articles  of  attire  to 
redundancy  ;  of  finery,  first,  second,  or  third 
hand,  there  is  none  at  all  ;  dirty-looking  are  the 
garments,  and  keen-looking  the  Jews  who  vend 
them.  All  seemed  unhealthy  ;  but  I  am  told 
some  of  these  old-clothes  people  realize  rather 
considerable  fortunes  in  this  way  —  health  and 
decency  are  customary  and  every-day  sacrifices 
to  the  darling  deity  of  the  English. 

We  strolled  on  until  we  came  to  a  place  call- 
ed Seven  Dials,  seven  streets  opening  out  of  a 
small  seven-cornered  space  ;  of  course,  there  are 
no  dials,  or,  in  all  probability,  it  would  not  have 
been  so  called.  I  had  heard  and  read  of  this 
place,  and  expected  to  have  found  it  far  worse  ; 
all  appeared  decorous  enough,  but  I  was  unfa- 
vourably impressed  with  the  manners  or  want 
of  manners  of  the  locality,  from  the  great  num- 
ber of  gin  palaces.  We  "walked  about  some  of 
the  adjacent  streets,  and  saw  swarthy-lookin 
foreigners  lounging  about,  or  gazing  from  the 


g 
ir 


served  us,  but  there  were  others ;  and  as  the  i  opened  windows  ;   they  were  so  rich   in   mus- 
English  were  sure  to  have  laughed  loudly  and  '  tache  and  beard.    Emma  Wilderton  said,  when. 


rudely  to  testify  the  delight  they  experienced  in 
a  lady  failing  to  attain  the  goal  of  this  clever 
labyrinth,  who,  under  such  circumstances,  could 
make  the  experiment  1  Not  I — nor  I  am  sure 
would  you. 

There  were  many  visiters  in  the  palace,  and 
the  wearisomeness  several  manifested  was  re- 
markable ;  their  watches  were  consulted  far 
more  eagerly  than  their  catalogues.  Why  go 
they  if  they  are  so  easily  fatigued  1  I  suppose 
for  the  reason  which  induced  some  one  to  go 
down  into  a  coal-pit,  to  say  he  had  been  there ! 
It  was  with  regret  I  walked  on  our  return 
through  the  lofty  gates  of  Hampton  Court. 

Cardinal  Wolsey  !  What  romance,  what  po- 
etry, there  is  in  his  character  and  career!  It 
was  objected  on  his  behalf,  that 

"  Man's  evil  manners  live  in  brass  ;  their  virtues 
We  wnte  in  water  :" 

and  this  is  too  often  true  ;  but  his  taste  and  mu- 
nificence are  written  in  enduring  characters  in 
this  majestic  structure.  If  the  cardinal  did  write 
"  I,  and  the  king,"  he  was  veracious  though  im- 
politic, for  he  was  the  far  greater  man  of  the 
two.  What  witchery,  what  command,  there  is 
in  genius !  I  have  quoted  you  a  sentence  from 
Shakspeare,  as  if  it  were  a  reality ;  so.  indeed,  it 
is — a  reality  in  its  unchanging  truthfulness  to 
human  nature.  The  cardinal's  scarlet  hat  was 
among  the  curiosities  of  Strawberry  Hill,  and 
sold  to  Mr.  Charles  Kean — I  forget  for  how 
many  guineas.  I  hope  he  does  not  mean  to 
play' in  it — but  no,  he  must  be  above  such  trick- 
ery ;  it  would  attract  some,  and  some  would  go 
to'show  how  witty  they  could  be  on  their  favour- 
ite quotation  of  "all  round  my  hat." 

On  the  following  day  we  were  in  a  very  dif- 
ferent scene.  I  told  you  Mr.  Wilderton  would 


she  saw  so  many  of  these  unrazored  persons  (I 
wonder  if  they  ever  venture  to  Sheffield),  she 
"always  wished  to  be  a  fairy,  and  in  the  very 
witching  time  of  night  she  would  send  a  flock  of 
hares  to  the  sleeping  and  unsuspicious  foreign- 
ers, each  like  one  of  Cowper's  tame  hares,  which, 
he  says,  used  to  bite  the  hair  from  his  temples  !" 
The  wish  for  fairy  power  is  natural ;  but  the 
purpose  for  which  it  was  desired,  and  the  means 
to  be  used,  are  odd  enough ! 

Poor  Cowper !  How  his  poetry  helped  him, 
as  it  did  Pope,  through  that  long  disease,  his 
life.  I  believe  the  men  of  modern  England — to- 
day's England  (of  course  I  mean  the  major  part 
of  them) — would  as  soon  eat  Cowper's  tame  pets 
of  hares  as  any  wild  ones ;  and  after  their  slow 
repast  would  merely  remark  upon  the  flavour, 
knowing  the  while  that  it  was  a  Cowperian 
hare.  One  never  palls  on  Cowper's  poetry — 
:<no  crude  surfeit  reigns"  in  his  pleasant  pages; 
his  blank  verse  is  so  full  of  matter  and  truth — 
blank  only  in  its  name ;  the  Task  is  an  ever- 
green one.  In  Cowper's  pages  the  reader  is 
never  lost  in  sweets,  like  a  fly  in  molasses 
("there's  a  simile  which  would  gladden  the  un- 
derstanding spirit  of  Mr.  Walter  Guy);  and  one 
cannot  say  so  much  of  some  very  popular  works. 

Well,  my  digressiveness  (I  know  it's  a  fault, 
and  perhaps,  poor  human  nature,  like  it  better 
on  that  very  account)  is  ingenious,  to  flee  to 
Cowper  and  criticism  from  the  Seven  Dials ! 
This  part  is  called  Soho,  which  appears  a  district 
name ;  and  we  walked  on  until  we  found  our- 
selves in  Soho  Square,  where  are  many  music- 
sellers  and  a  famed  bazar,  in  which  very  many 
young  women  sell  very  many  things  ;  much, 
might  be  said  in  praise  thereof  but  it  might  re- 
quire Mrs.  Trollope's  pen  to  do  it  sufficient  jus- 
tice". Bazars  are  better  adapted  to  the  East  of 


LETTERS    FROM 


the  Old,  than  the  West  of  the  New  World ;  at 
least,  they  do  not  always  prosper  in  Cincinnati, 
and  an  unsuccessful  speculator  in  one  of  those 
multifarious  establishments  has  been  known  to 
take  very  broad  revenge,  for  the  United  States 
of  North  America  through  their  length  and  width 
have  been  misrepresented  in  consequence  ;  it 
was  bravely  done,  too,  and  with  no  allaying 
dash  of  woman's  timidity.  O  much-offending 
Cincinnati !  Hath  it  yet  repented  1 

From  Soho  Square  you  may  walk  into  long, 
and  straight,  and  diversely-paved  Oxford-street ; 
we  called  at  a  place  called  the  Pantheon,  once  a 
theatre,  now  a  bazar,  but  much  inferior  to  the 
one  in  Soho  Square.  There  were  a  great  many 
people  sauntering  about,  and  many  pictures  were 
hung  up  for  sale,  and  continued  to  hang,  being 
seldom  sold.  There  are  many  similar  places  in 
London,  but  they  present  little  to  interest.  In 
the  better  ones,  there  are  as  many  aspirants  to  a 
stall,  that  may  be  vacant  by  death  or  removal, 
as  there  are  from  clergymen  under  similar  cir- 
cumstances. 

In  no  country  in  the  world,  so  wretchedly  as 
in  England,  can  a  young  woman,  reared  so  as 
to  be  unfitted  for  domestic  service,  support  her- 
self safely  or  honourably ;  if  she  have  not  ac- 
complishments, many  and  shoicy  enough  to  ob- 
tain her  the  situation  of  a  governess,  I  do  not 
know  what  she  can  do  to  earn  bread  and  water. 
The  English  profess  to  regret  this,  and  "selon 
leurs  regies,"  see  no  means  of  altering  it,  and  so 
pronounce  it  impossible;  they  make  not  a  single 
effort  to  amend  the  matter,  and  cry,  "  Impossi- 
ble," "  impossible !"  An  Englishman  would  pro- 
nounce it  "  impossible"  to  relieve  his  starving 
foster-mother,  as  he  was  on  his  way  to  purchase 
a  pipe  of  port  of  some  curious  vintage  to  be  bot- 
tled for  the  revelry  of  after  years — "  impossible !" 
How  is  it  known  to  be  "  impossible  7"  Gas- 
lights and  steam-vessels  were  at  first  pronoun- 
ced "impossible."  Nay,  the  establishment  of 
Christianity  itself  was  declared  "  impossible"  by 
the  misbelievers,  the  evil-doers,  the  credulous, 
in  many  gods  and  goddesses  of  old.  Impossible ! 
How  English  adjectives  are  misused ! 

Ever,  etc. 


LETTER  XXII.  • 

"Washington  and  Jack-the-Giant-killer.-Early  Rising.— A 
Favourite  Precept.— The  late  Duke  of  Sussex.— The  Ly- 
ing-in-state.— The  Crowd. — Their  Remarks.— The  Fu- 
neral.—Royalty. — Chronicle  of  Royal  Drivings  and  Di- 
ning*.—Meager  and  unsatisfactory. 

London, ,  1843. 

MY  DEAREST  JPLIA — There  are  very  many 
things  in  London  worthy  of  remark,  and  calcu- 
lated to  interest  you,  that  I  must  pass  over  un- 
noticed, or  notice  as  cursorily  as  Mr.  Dickens 
does  Mount  Vernon.  "  We  are  passing  Mount 
Vernon,"  says  he,  "where  Washington" lies  bu- 
Tied."  Could  not  the  English  author  pay  even 
a  passing  tribute  of  respect  to  departed  greatness, 
and  such  greatness  7  To  be  sure,  in  his  Amer- 
ican Notes  he  gives  us  a  sketch  of  Jack-the-Gi- 
ant-killer;  but  Washington — the  patriot,  the  con- 
queror, the  lawgiver,  the  ruler — is  not  so  hon- 
oured ;  and  yet  the  giants  he  overcame  were  for- 
midable enough— how  are  they  named  7  Prej- 
udice, Pride,  Obstinacy,  Oppression,  Bigotry. 
John  Bunyan's  Pope  and  Pagan,  were  far.  less 
fearful  to  his  Protestant  Pilgrim. 


I  have  been  induced  to  overcome  two  of  my 
dislikes — those  of  rising  early,  and  encountering 
a  crowd.  I  know,  1  can  at  this  distance  appre- 
ciate all  you  will  say  about  the  advantages  of 
early  rising;  and  Milton's  description  ot  mom, 
"  with  charm  of  earliest  birds,"  is  very  fine,  as 
well  as  true,  and  so  are  the  lines  Thomson  com- 
posed in  his  noonday  bed,  indignantly  retmkelul 
of  the  slothtul  backwardness  of  that  fal-ely- 
luxurious  man,  who  slumbers  when  he  should 
arise  and  enjoy 

"  The  cool,  the  fragrant,  and  the  silent  hour, 
To  meditation  due,  and  sacred  song." 

I  do  not  clearly  understand  how,  if  the  hour  be 
due  to  sacred  song,  it  can  be  epitheted  as  silent; 
but  let  that  pass.  Were  there  early  birds  (that 
is,  in  Milton's  sense),  or  sacred  song  in  London, 
one  might  be  induced  to  go  forth  to  nature's  mat- 
ins. As  it  is — don't  chide,  I  seldom  rise  before 
nine  (now  don't  exclaim  so).  I  admit  the  ibrce 
of  Thomson's  precepts;  but  then,  Julia,  his  ex- 
ample! Byron,  also,  exquisitely  describes  the 
morn,  "the  dewy  morn" — he  generally  rose 
about  two  in  the  afternoon. 

Well,  I  arose  earlv  to  witness  a  spectacle  that 
can  never  be  witne'ssed  in  America— a  royal 
"  lying-in-state."  The  Duke  of  Sussex,  the  un- 
cle of  the  Q,ueen,  died  at  Kensington  Palace, 
and  there  was  the  ceremony  to  be  holden — 
open  to  all  persons  (and  without  a  fee !)  in  de- 
cent mourning — that  is,  not  in  actual  grief,  but 
in  "customary  suit  of  solemn  black."  The 
wearing  of  mourning  for  the  Duke  of  Sussex 
was  common  throughout  England  by  royal  com- 
mand; and  I  think,  though  I  can  hardly  tell  why, 
the  English  ladies  look  best  in  black.  They 
seem  to  dress  more  tastefully  in  it  than  in  col- 
ours; indeed,  it  is  less  easy,  "  in  the  sable  garb 
of  wo,"  to  offend  against  good  taste.  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Mortimer  accompanied  me.  We  break- 
fasted in  my  apartments  at  half  past  eight,  and, 
as  the  morning  was  fine,  we  walked  to  the  Pal- 
ace, a  mile,  perhaps,  and  found  ourselves  in  a 
motley  crowd — may  I  say  motley  7  At  any  rate, 
motley  was  not  their  only  wear  exteriorly,  for 
black  was;  but  they  were  motley  in  mien  and 
character.  We  faced  the  crowd.  Mr.  Mortimer 
said,  manfully — I  felt  it  was  womanly — huw- 
ever,  there  was  no  retreating,  and  we  waited  with 
what  patience  we  might  until  we  could  be  ad- 
mitted into  the  chamber  of  death. 

The  observations  which  we  could  not  but  hear 
in  the  crowd  were  by  no  means  of  a  lugubrious 
character;  still  the  crowd  was  what  in  England 
is  called  decorous.  I  heard  one  youth  tell  his 
companion  that  he  had  come  up  from  Cam- 
bridge on  purpose  to  see  the  old  Duke  planted ; 
and  the  commentaries  on  the  deceased  prince's 
life  and  character  were  quite  as  free  as  an  Amer- 
ican crowd  could  have  uttered.  The  Duke  was 
to  be  buried,  his  own  desire,  at  Kensal  Green 
Cemetery,  instead  of  the  royal  vault  at  Windsor. 
"O!"  said  the  young  collegian,  in  explanation, 
"  he  would  have  been  a  nonentity  at  Windsor; 
but  at  Kensal  Green  he'll  be  an  important  per- 
sonage, a  truly  great  body."  As  he  emphasized 
the  last  two  words,  there  was  a  laugh  at  this 
gross  allusion  to  the  late  prince's  stature  and 
corpulency.  In  America,  we  consider  the  Eng- 
lish attached  to  monarchical  institutions  and  to 
the  royal  family,  and  the  Duke  of  Sussex  is 
represented  as  having  been  popular — then  why 
these  remarks  7  He  dared  in  his  youth  (and  in 
his  mature  age  also)  to  marry  like  the  people, 


AN    AMERICAN    LADY. 


despite  the  Royal  Marriage  Act,  which  George 
the  Third,  when  he  was  accounted  sane,  too, 
caused  his  obsequious  parliament  to  pass,  and 
had  endeared  himself— I  mean  the  Duke— in 
many  respects  to  the  people— and  yet  they  talked 
thus !  Jested,  and  made  holyday !  One  venera- 
ble-looking man  rebuked  a  youth  near  him: 
"  Don't  talk  so,"  said  he,  "  but  pay  respect  to  the 
memory  of  the  Duke,  if  for  nothing  but  his  gray 
hairs !"  "  Didn't  he  wear  a  wig  I1'  returned  the 
lad,  and  the  few  who  heard  it  laughed  merrily ! 
One  reads  in  the  papers  that  the  crowd  was  or- 
derly, and  that  no  accidents  occurred ;  but  unless 
eye  and  ear  witness,  how  little  one  knows  of 
the  by-play— of  the  real  feelings  of  the  multi- 
tude. 

The  police  were  very  numerous,  and  barriers 
and  stoppages  were  so  arranged  that  no  great 
confusion  could  ensue.  The  gates  were  opened 
at  ten  o'clock,  and  how  tardily  we  advanced. 
Every  now  and  then  a  slow  movement  was  per- 
formed, and  a  gentleman  near  me— I  could  not 
see  him — warbled  on  each  occasion  "  Hey,  Jim 
along,  get  along  Josey,"  the  burden  of  one  of 
those  unintelligible  songs  so  beloved  of  very 
many  Englishmen;  for  the  no-meaning  of  such 
canticles  is  grateful  to  them.  But  "time  and 
the  hour  run  through  the  roughest  day,"  as  well 
as  the  thickest  crowd,  though  it  was  more  than 
two  hours  before  we  emerged.  However,  we  at 
last  found  ourselves  on  the  grand  staircase,  and 
at  the  top  stood  his  late  Royal  Highness's  High- 
land piper, 

"  All  plaided  and  plumed  iuhis  tartan  array." 

He  was  solacing  himself  (for  I  saw  it)  with 
some  colourless  beverage  (whisky,  or  water,  by 
possibility),  which  a  domestic  poured  from  a  de- 
canter concealed  in  a  recess,  and  which  the  piper 
drained  from  a  wine-glass  having  the  foot  knock- 
ed off— a  fine-looking  Highlander  he  was.  We 
then  entered  an  antechamber,  where  stood  two 
persons,  described  as  a  Burmese  page  and  a 
Hanoverian  jager  (how  this  was  appropriate  to 
the  obsequies  of  a  British  prince  I  never  learn- 
ed), and  then  we  stood  in  the  Presence  Chamber : 
I  suppose  I  may  call  it  so,  for  there  was  the 
coffin,  and  the  room  was  hung  with  fluted  black 
cloth,  as  were  the  staircase  and  anteroom ;  and 
waxen  tapers  in  silver  sconces  diffused  dim  light, 
and  royal  emblazonments  hung  around,  and  a 
coronet  rested  on  the  coffin,  which  was  covered 
with  rich  crimson  velvet,  while  chief  mourners, 
not  by  right  of  consanguinity,  but  of  custom,  sat 
at  its  head — and  in  the  chamber  of  death  were 
thus  gathered  the  vanities  of  life. 

All  this  may  be  to  enforce  upon  plebeians  the 
greatness  of  royalty.  A  prince  of  the  blood,  a 
peer  of  Great  Brita'in,  has  passed  away;  but  let 
it  not  be  impressed  upon  men's  minds  that  he  is 
now  nothing : 

"  To  the  meanest  of  reptiles  a  peer  and  a  prey." 

"No.  Let  heraldry  and  gorgeousness  yield  their 
aid,  and  show  that  a  prince  is  mighty  even  in 
death ! 

When  we  entered  the  palace  the  crowd  was 
silent,  and  the  sound  of  the  slowly-moving  feet 
on  the  matted  flooring  was  solemn  and  strange. 
From  the  coffin-room  we  passed  into  another 
apartment,  also  hung  with  black,  and  then  re- 
gained the  open  air.  a  temporary  staircase  hav- 
ing been  erected  from  one  of  the  palace-windows 
into  the  gardens.  The  air  was  such  a  relief, 
for  within  it  had  become  rather  stifling.  It  was 


stated  in  the  papers  that  twenty-five  thousand 
persons  witnessed  this  lying-in-state. 

The  following  day  was  the  funeral.  I  saw 
the  procession  from  a  window  in  Kensington; 
we  repaired  thither  too  soon,  and  had  to  wait. 
Mr.  Mortimer  recognised  a  city  acquaintance 
in  the  room,  and  they  spoke  of  some  approach- 
ing election.  "  I  should  have  talked  it  over  with 

Alderman yesterday,"  said  the  gentleman, 

"but  he  was  detained  so* long  disposing  of  per- 
sons charged  with  destitution."  The  very  words, 
charged  with  destitution,  and  to  be  punished  for 
it !  Could  not,  if  no  other  offence  were  imputed, 
some  fund  be  charged  with  restitution  to  those 
culprits,  as  they  are  held  in  London,  of  the 
means  of  subsistence  and  employment  7  "  Pray," 

asked  Mr.  Mortimer,  "  do  you  know  if  Mr. 

was  in  the  House  of  Commons  on  Monday 
night  V  "  I  really  cannot  tell,"  was  the  answer : 
"  perhaps  not ;  but  he  might,  indeed,  be  unno- 
ticed— might  be  there,  and  no  one  be  the  wiser 
for  it."  I  fancy  as  much  might  be  said  of  very 
many  honourable  members. 

But  the  funeral  procession — it  was  most  pom- 
pous— plumes,  robes,  paraphernalia,  music,  roy- 
al carriages  with  their  six  horses — you  will  see 
the  detail  in  the  public  prints.  The  crowd  un- 
derneath the  window  where  we  sat  were  merry 
enough,  but  were  quieter  when  the  procession 
appeared  in  the  street,  along  which  it  wound, 
though  not  in  toilsome  march,  its  long  array. 

Royalty  needs  many  adjuncts,  many  adventi- 
tious aids  to  give  it  due  weight,  to  make  it  ap- 
pear a  mighty  thing — a  visibly  powerful  thing — 
standing  aloof  and  above  the  every-day  world — 
above  aristocracy  itself;  but  subject,  the  while, 
to  the  vulgar  passions  and  bodily  sufferings, 
hunger  and  cold  excepted,  of  the  many.  The 
simplicity  of  a  republic  prefers  to  appeal  directly 
to  the  public  mind;  but  royalty  will  rather  daz- 
zle the  public  eye,  -while  its  high-sounding  titles 
fill  the  ear.  It  is  surely  no  small  testimony  to 
the  excellence  of  republican  institutions  that 
outward  show  may  be  dispensed  with.  "  The 
stone,"  says  Lord  Bacon,  "  had  need  to  be  rich 
that  is  set'without  foil." 

The  very  walkings,  and  drivings,  and  lun- 
cheons, and  dinners  of  royalty  must  be  chroni- 
cled, as  if  they  were  attributes  of  superior  be- 
ings, or  as  if  it  were  greatly  daring  of  princes  to 
walk,  or  ride,  or  eat.  Why  do  not  these  courtly 
scribes  go  farther,  and,  if  it  be  so  essential  to  the 
satisfaction  of  the  queendoms  to  chronicle  the 
dinner  and  the  guests,  why  not  detail  the  dishes 
also!  Or  tell  if  the  appetite,  like  the  rank  of 
royalty,  soars  leyond  the  reach  of  ordinary  hu- 
manity 7  And  why  hear  we  not  of  the  sportive 
raillery — the  well-natured  badinage — the  flash- 
ing wit,  or  the  eloquent  discussion  that,  doubt- 
less, ever  render  the  gracefully-arranged  dinner 
and  dessert  tables  in  royal  halls  scenes  of  intel- 
lectual repast,  as  of  delicious  viands?  Why 
are  these  things  kept  from  loving  subjects  1 
Surely  the  courtly  chroniclers  do  but  half  their 
duty;  telling  of  dinners,  isolated  dinners,  and 
nothing  more,  save  the  names  of  the  honoured 
guests;  not  a  dress  is  described  to  make  ladies 
admire — and  sigh ;  not  the  composition  of  a  sin- 


ly; 

not  a  reflection  to  interest  the  grave.  On,  fy  !  fy ! 
I  find  there  were  booths  erected  to  sell  provis- 
ions on  the  line  of  his  royal  highness's  funeral, 
and  other  means  taken  to  ensure  the  people  their 


50 


LETTERS  FROM 


favourite  enjoyments.    Congratulations  on  the  | 
fine  morning  passed  frequently  from  mouth  to  i 
mouth.     <;  Ah !  yon  here  to  see  the  poor  old 
duke's  procession;  so  fortunate  in  the  weather; 
so  distressing  if  it  had  rained."    And  for  what  j 
occasion  gathered  this  crowd  ?  What  pageantry  I 
was  in  store  1    A  coronation  pomp  1    A  queen's  I 
marriage  1  A  conqueror's  triumphal  entry"?  No 
— an  old  man's  funeral — the  restoring  earth  to 
earth — and  "so  fortunate  in  the  weather!" 

We  escape  such  anomalies  in  the  United  j 
States.  The  newspapers,  which  in  general 
speak  respectfully  of  royalty,  and  properly  so  in 
a  monarchical  government,  admit  that  there  was 
no  manifestation  of  grief— show  occupied  the 
place  of  sorrow.  It  was  said  Prince  Albert 
manifested  more  sadness  than  any  of  the  other 
attendants  at  the  deceased  prince's  obsequies.  I 
can  readily  believe  it;  his  royal  highness,  not  in 
his  nature,  but  in  his  naturalization,  is  an  Eng- 
lishman; callousness  in  feeling,  selfishness  in 
affection,  are  not  characteristic  of  him.  I  felt 
grave  and  thoughtful — I,  a  stranger  and  a  repub- 
lican; for  I  remembered  a  death  in  a  far-distant 
land,  and  how  it  was  mourned  with  real  anguish. 
Grief  has  not  yet  laid  its  blighting  hand  on  you, 
dear  Julia,  and  long— long  be  its  touch  averted. 
I  should  bitterly  lament  if  your  bright  eyes, 
"young  Peri  of  the  West,"  were  to  be  dimmed 
from  sleepless  sadness — your  spirits  crushed  be- 
neath the  weight  of  suffering;  but  you  are  too 
joyous  a  thing  for  these  gloomy  forebodings. 
Adieu ;  I  long  to  add,  "  au  revoir." 

Ever,  etc. 


LETTER  XXin. 

• 

Slavery.— Police  Station  House.— Officer.  — Severe  and 
Stern  to  view. — Irish  Oratory. — Aldermen. — Small  Le- 
gislation.—Beggars.— Hospitals.— Exeter-Hall  Oratory. 

London, ,  1843. 

DEAREST  JULIA — I  always  avoid  arguments 
upon  slavery,  but  sometimes  they  are  forced 
upon  me ;  and  those  English  ladies  who  know 
just  the  least  of  the  matter,  are  the  most  ener- 
getic in  their  abolition  advocacy.  Why  can't 
America  emancipate  her  slaves  as  England  did! 
is  a  common  query,  as  coolly  advanced  as  if  the 
occurrence  took  place  some  time  last  century. 
Why,  the  British  government,  out  of  its  enor- 
mous resources,  purchased  the  freedom  of  the 
slaves ;  and  if  all  America  had  the  same  desire, 
has  she  the  means  1  Philanthropic  as  the  Eng- 
lish are,  especially  when  the  object  is  afar  off, 
and  even  while  their  wealth  is  greater  than 
their  philanthropy,  no  one  can  expect  that  they 
will  ever  offer  to  pay  to  another  country  a  full 
and  fair  price  for  their  bondsmen,  that  slavery 
may  be  no  more.  Then  how  w  the  manumis- 
sion to  be  accomplished1?  But  more  of  this, 
perhaps,  some  other  time. 

And  I  have  been  engaged  in  such  a  vexatious 
adventure.  I  have  been  to  a  police  station- 
house— I— and  personally— not  accused,  don't 
fear — only  interested.  I  dined  yesterday  at 
Dr.  C.'s,  and,  leaving  early,  returned  to  Picca 
dilly  about  nine.  I  had  given  Kathleen  leave 
to  pay  a  visit  to  some  acquaintance  in  the  city ; 
she  had  not  returned,  but  an  old  Irish  woman 
appeared  as  her  ambassadress,  had  been  wait- 
ing for  me,  and  would  wait  until  she  saw  me 
It  was  some  time  before  I  could  understand 
what  had  really  happened. 


"And  shure,  marm,  she  was  not  at  all  to 
blame — the  cratur,  because  she  was  permiscus 
as  well  as  innocent ;  and  if  the  boys  did  fight, 
it  wasn't  the  bad  feelin',  but  the  dhrink  that  did 
it ;  and  the  poor  young  woman,  which  is  little 
to  me,  for  sign's  on  it,  I  don't  remember  the 
name  of  her,  and— whisper,  my  lady,  God  bless 
you — it's  broken-hearted  she  is — " 

"  Broken-hearted  !  Why,  what  has  happen- 
ed!" 

"  Indeed,  then,  and  she's  locked  down." 

"  Down  ?  down  where  !" 

•'  Musha,  marm,  she's  in  throuble." 

"Well,  but  what  the  nature  of  the  trouble?" 

'•  Natur,  my  lady  !  Arrah,  and  it's  ill-natur'd 
:hey  are,  and  black-hearted  to  the  boot  of  that, 
to  think  of  sarvin'  her  so,  and  she  not  able  to 
spake  for  the  tears  that  choked  her." 

"  But  where  is  she!" 

"  In  the  station-house,  my  lady." 

"  The  station-house !" 

"  Off  of  Smithfield,  my  lady." 

It  seems  that  before  Kathleen  reached  the 
abode  of  her  friend — who  was  her  mother's  half- 
jrother,  an  elderly  man — a  quarrel  had  taken 
place  among  some  visitants,  and  a  skirmish  and 
i  broken  head.  "The  current  of  the  heady  fight" 
had  ceased  to  flow  ere  she  entered  the  room, 
but  an  alarm  of  "  police"  was  given,  and  the 
party,  disliking  the  publicity  that  might  be  ex- 
tended to  their  disagreement  in  opinion,  fairly 
rushed  forth  and  got  clear  away,  broken  head 
and  all,  leaving  Kathleen  bewildered,  and  wait- 
ing for  explanation  ;  her  bonnet  had  been  acci- 
dentally crushed  by  one  of  the  party  as  he  hur- 
ried out.  She  was  about  to  depart,  when  a  po- 
liceman arrived,  seized  Kathleen,  and  in  spite 
of  all  her  explanations,  would  take  her  to  pris- 
on. "  There  was  blood  upon  the  floor,"  he  said, 
"  and  murder  might  take  place  there  some  day." 
So  with  provident  sagacity  he  apprehended  a 
person  perfectly  innocent,  to  subject  her  to  the 
degradation,  and  perhaps  ruin,  of  imprisonment ; 
for  the  poor  girl  might  have  been  deprived  of 
her  situation  in  consequence,  and  flung,  with- 
out a  friend  or  a  character,  upon  the  hard  world 
that  had  so  wronged  her — a  common  occur- 
rence in  London. 

As  the  policeman  and  his  prey,  securely 
clutched,  gained  the  street,  they  passed  an  ap- 
ple-stall, where  sat  the  old  woman  who  came  to 
me ;  and  as  Kathleen  had  asked  her  some  ques- 
tions, and  loitered  a  moment  to  do  it,  in  going 
to  the  scene  of  contest,  and  as  not  five  minutes 
had  since  elapsed,  time  alone  showed  that  the 
poor  girl  could  not  be  a  guilty  combatant.  The 
apple-seller  stated  this  :  the  policeman  listened, 
and  then,  after  the  manner  and  language  of 
such  men,  said,  "  Both  Irish— Walker !  I  see 
through  the  dodge — walk  along  with  me." 

The  poor  old  woman,  indignant  at  this  injus- 
tice, consigned  her  fruit  to  some  vicarial  sales- 
woman, proceeded  to  the  station-house,  where 
she  learned  from  Kathleen  who  she  was,  and  it 
was  agreed,  upon  consultation,  that  I  was  to  be 
visited.  The  ever-smiling  and  obliging  lady  of 
the  house  was  told  all  this  before  I  returned, 
but  replied  a  rAnglaise,  she  made  a  rule  never 
to  interfere  when  any  one  she  knew  was  in  a 
difficulty  of  this  sort,  and  she  could  not  think 
(conscientious  person  !)  of  breaking  a  rule.  For 
a  moment  I  was  puzzled  how  to  proceed,  but 


AN    AMERICAN    LADY.  51 

determined  to  drive  to  Mr.  N.'s,  and  obtain  his  j  a  loss  what  next  to  do,  and  was  thinking  of  ad- 
professional  assistance,  taking  the  old  woman  |  dressing  myself  to  the  fat  man,  and  asking  hii. 


with  me  :  luckily,  I  had  kept  the  carriage  wait- 
ing. I  had  some  difficulty  in  persuading  my 
new  acquaintance  to  be  my  carriage  compan- 
ion. 

"  And  shure,  marm,  as  to  a  rale  lady's  car- 
riage, I  never  was  in  it  afore  ;  but's  seen  betther 
days,  God  help  me  !  and  I'll  walk,  yer  ladyship, 
for  I  don't  know  how  to  demane  myself  in  the 
carriage." 

In  what  signification  she  spoke  of  "  demean- 
ing" herself,  whether  as  to  behaviour  or  humil- 
ity, I  do  not  know  ;  perhaps  we  must  under- 


if  I  could  see  Kathleen,  when  my  Hibernian  at- 
tendant broke  in,  her  rage  being  beyond  con- 
trolment. 

"Arrah,  then,  and  the  curse  o'  Crummell 
upon  you,  you  shaved  hyaena,  you  ;  is  it  for  the 
likes  o'  you  to  talk  that  way  to  a  lady?  la  it 
because  you  are  so  used  to  spake  to  thieves  and 
the  likes  of  your  ugly  self,  that  you  cannot  an- 
swer a  lady  in  her  own  carriage  without  showing 
you're  a  falsehearted  blackguard,  and  a  disgrace 
to  the  mother  that  rared  you,  God  pity  her  and 
forgive  her  for  it !  What  d'you  sit  there  for,  if 


stand  it  in  a  double  sense.     Unluckily,  I  found  J  not  to  say  your  say  'bout  the  pris'ners,  what 
Mr.  N.  was  dining  at  some  distant  tavern,  for  i  may  all  be  your  betthers,  you  unnat'ral  savage  ! 


the  benefit  of  some  hospital,  and  the  hour  of  his 
return  was  uncertain,  so  I  at  once  ordered  the 
surprised  coachman  ;  for  I  had  to  bid  him  twice, 
to  drive  to  this  station-house. 

I  thought,  foolish  creature,  that  the  authori- 
ties there  would  regard  the  truth,  for  I  could 
prove  from  the  hour  Kathleen  left  me,  that  only 
an  excellent  walker  could  have  attained  the  lo- 
cality of  the  fight  by  the  time  she  was  taken  into 
custody ;  while  the  said  fight,  with  its  prelim- 
inary quarrelsomeness,  had  been  of  considerable 
duration.  We  stopped  at  a  rather  large  house 
in  Smithfield :  before  we  alighted,  I  requested 
my  companion  to  be  silent  unless  spoken  to ;  |  was  told  what  the  business  was,  and  followed 


Sorrow  to  the  tribe  of  yez,  that  eats  such  idle 
bread,  and  can't  eat  it  civilly.  What  are  you  paid 
forl  Tell  me  that — what  are  you  there  for1? 
And  tell  the  lady  what  she  wants  to  know,  or 
I'll  fling  my  patten  at  the  head  of  yez  to  get  be- 
fore the  lord-mayor,  and  tell  his  honour  the 
rights  of  it." 

The  officer  listened  coolly  enough,  and  the 
good  woman  had  gathered  breath  for  another 
volley,  and  had  just  commenced,  "  Bad  sessions 
to  you  !" — and  how  all  would  have  ended  I  can- 
not tell,  for  I  was  at  my  wit's  end,  when  Mr.  N. 
appeared.  He  returned  home  soon  after  I  called, 


for  she  was  so  excitable,  I  feared  her  volu- 
bility might  prejudice  Kathleen.  We  entered  a 
railed,  barriered,  and  benched  room,  and  advan- 
cing, accosted  two  police-officers,  who  sat  doing 
nothing  in  very  English  silence  ;  and,  as  they 
were  in  a  sort  of  boxed-off  recess,  they  could 
only  be  spoken  to  over  a  barricade.  One  man 
was  fat  and  quiet-looking,  bloated,  but  not  un- 
healthily, as  if  his  colour  were  attributable  to 
much  cold  weather  as  well  as  hot  gin  ;  the  oth- 
er man  was  gaunt,  and  looked,  O  !  the  crosses! 
of  the  cross,  as  if  vinegar  were  his  ordinary 
drink,  or,  rather,  an  agreeable  relaxation  from 
the  greater  acidity  of  his  diet ;  a  smile  was  im- 


me  directly.  Without  preface,  like  one  used  to 
such  scenes,  he  tendered  bail,  which  the  officer 
positively  refused  ;  he  was  deaf  alike  to  Mr.  N.'s 
expostulations  and  threats,  and  we  could  only 
leave  poor  Kathleen  to  stay  all  night  in  her  hor- 
rid lodgings  ;  luckily,  I  had  my  large  cloak  with 
me,  which  I  left  her,  for  there  was  neither  bed 
nor  couch.  Mr.  N.  told  her  he  would  attend 
before  the  alderman  on  her  behalf  to-morrow, 
and  we  came  away.  Early  on  the  following; 
morning  Kathleen  was  called,  and  briefly  told 
the  charge  against  her  was  abandoned,  and  she 
might  go,  and  be  sure  not  to  come  there  again. 
Thus  the  matter  ended  ;  for  Mr.  N.  advised 


possible  to  the  coarse  ruggedness  of  his  feature  :  |  us  that  it  was  useless  to  proceed  farther,  or  corn- 
like  the  brute  the  poet  writes  of,  if  he  was  pleas-    plain  to  an  alderman  of  the  misconduct  of  the 


ed,  he  would  growl  his  horrid  joy.  I  asked  if 
one  Kathleen  O'Reilly  was  confined  there.  The 
man  so  austere  in  ugliness,  after  a  pause,  and 
without  ever  looking  up,  answered,  "  Yes."  The 
tone  was  like  what  a  drunken  man  in  a  pet 
might  blow  out  of  a  bassoon,  only  hoarser  and 
sharper. 

"  Pray  wha^is  her  offence  1" 

"  Who  the  devil  are  you  !"  still  without  look- 
ing up.  I  gave  my  name  and  address. 

"  What  do  I  care  who  you  are  ?  do  you  think 
I  have  nothing  to  do  but  sit  here  to  answer  idle 
questions  1" 

As  the  official  man  was  sitting  there  doing 
nothing,!  could  not  see  the  peculiar  hardship  of 
his  answering  questions. 

"  But — but  is  there  no  legal  way  of  accom- 
plishing her  liberation  for  to-night  1  I  will  de- 
posite  a  sum  of  money  to  ensure  her  appearance 
to-morrow.  Will  that  do  ]" 

"No  ;  and  I'll  not  answer  another  question." 

Here  he  gave  a  stamp  with  a  look  of  ferocity 
that  might  have  frightened  Van  Amburgh,  or 
that  tiger-tamer  to  the  Nabob.  Had  I  seen  any- 
thing like  this  on  the  stage,  I  should  have  said 
the  part  was  sadly  over-acted.  I  was  utterly  at 


subordinate  officials ;  really,  he  was  less  com- 
plimentary to  the  aldermen  than  was  Lord 
Brougham  in  the  House  of  Peers,  and  Kathleen 
was  imprisoned  and  I  insulted  without  a  reme- 
dy, or  a  remedy  that  was  not  to  be  resorted  to. 
Happily,  the  poor  girl  was  the  only  prisoner ;  no 
blame  whatever  was  attributable  to  her,  for  she 
arrived,  as  Wamba  recommends,  "at  the  end  of 
the  fray,"  and  the  only  one  she  knew  of  the  party 
was  her  uncle,  who  is  a  sober,  well-conducted 
man  generally ;  but  this  day  there  had  been  some 
national  festival,  and  then  a  fight. 

I  had  the  curiosity  to  inquire  how  the  alder- 
men were  qualified  for  the  important  office  of 
magistrate  in  a  great  city,  and  find  that  a  shop- 
keeper or  merchant,  whose  knowledge  of  law- 
may  be  derived  from  reading  police  reports 
alone,  may  be  elected  alderman,  and  becomes  a 
magistrate  at  the  moment.  A  very  odd,  if  very- 
ready  way  of  creating  a  justice  of  peace  !  But 
then  they  practise  principally  upon  the  poor,  and 
can  experiment  upon  them  until  some  little  le- 
gal knowledge  has  been  gained  ;  and  they  are 
rich,  and  give  excellent  dinners,  and  if  the- 
scales  of  justice  are  not  nicely  adjusted,  doubt- 
less the  literal  scales  in  the  warehouses  of  such 


LETTERS    FROM 


"  respectable"  gentlemen  are,  and  all  must  be 
magisterially  as  commercially  correct.  The 
poor  should  not  get  into  scrapes — and  why 
have  they  the  audacity  to  allow  themselves  to 
be  charged  with  destitution— can't  they  hunger, 
and  thirst,  and  suffer,  and  die  in  peace !  Many 
of  these  civic  dispensers  of  law  (from  the  ac- 
counts in  the  papers)  think  it  fitting  to  reason 
and  argue  with  the  accused,  nay,  even  to  jest 
with  them  !  If  merriment  be  proper  or  desira- 
ble in  the  police  courts  of  the  Mansion  House 
or  Guildhall,  why  not  engage  a  professional  jest- 
er, as  of  old,  with  proper  salary  and  perquisites  I 
and  the  gentlemen  of  the  press  might  then  have 
sayings  quaint,  apposite,  or  witty  enough  to  be 
worth  reporting.  Of  all  things,  save  me  from 
the  ponderous  in  jocularity. 

No  doubt  the  Irish  get  into  very  many  scrapes 
here,  and  often  give  a  practical  negation  to  a 
favourite  quotation  of  their  popular  orator  : 

"  Hereditary  bondsmen — know  ye  not 
Who  would  be  free,  themselves  must  strike  the  blow !" 

Here,  those  who  strike  the  blow  are  themselves 
deprived  of  freedom ;  properly  enough,  no  doubt, 
in  many  instances.  I  could  hardly  induce  the 
poor  old  applewoman  to  accept  a  few  shillings ; 
she  hadn't  earned  them,  she  said  :  but  she  was 
really  Oriental  in  her  thanks  and  benedictions.  I 
hope  that  in  America  an  almost  magisterial  au- 
thority is  never  delegated  or  continued  to  such 
a  man  as  I  met  at  the  station-house. 

Some  travellers  have  blamed  the  Americans 
for  too  great  fondness  for  legislation.  I  do  not 
mean  in  Congress,  but  in  small  matters ;  the 
same  may  be  said  of  the  English — such  long 
speeches  at  vestries,  and  corporations,  and  all 
kinds  of  meetings  for  all  manner  of  purposes, 
possible  or  impossible.  In  many  book-clubs 
there  is  such'a  code  of  laws,  rules,  and  regula- 
tions, that  one  is  afraid  of  offending  ;  happily, 
they  are  often  unintelligible,  and  then  ignorance 
is  bliss.  Even  social  and  convivial  societies,  I 
am  told,  have  their  restrictive  laws — not  only 
the  tune,  but  the  rule  must  regulate  the  harmo- 
ny of  the  members.  Debating  societies  seem 
rare,  and  of  no  high  character  ;  rising  orators 
now  can  practise  sufficiently  in  other  places ; 
there  is  no  difficulty  in  obtaining  public  speakers 
for  any  purpose  in  London,  but  there  may  not 
be  the  same  facilities  in  obtaining  attentive 
hearers. 

•Open-air  preachers  are  or  were  not  uncommon 
in  the  parks  on  Sundays  ;  sometimes  the  police 
interfere,  and  sometimes  not.  Hawkers  of  songs, 
three  yards  for  a  penny,  are  frequent  enough, 
and  so  are  itinerant  venders  of  any  lie  likely  to 
sell.  There  are  street  beggars,  but  not  very 
many — how  free  New- York  is !  London's  pov- 
erty is  not  to  be  seen  in  the  streets,  nor  are  the 
habitual  beggars  the  fit  objects  of  charity.  The 
Mendicity  Society,  as  it  is  generally  called,  that  ' 
is,  the  Society  for  the  Suppression  of  Mendicity, 
have  rooted  out  several  long-established  corpo- 
rations of  mendicants — reformed  them  altogeth- 
er. You  remember  Charles  Lamb's  pleasant 
essay,  a  complaint  of  the  decay  of  beggars  in 
the  metropolis.  The  English  people  like  to 
dwell  upon  the  exposure  of  begging  impostors, 
and  would  draw  the  inference  that  all  who  crave 
alms  are  similarly  bad.  Alas,  for  the  sick  and 
suffering  thousands  who  do  not  crave  alms  ! 


During  one  season,  I  was  told,  the  fever  wards 
in  the  hospitals  were  insufficient  for  the  number 
of  patients,  and  the  unhappy  wretches  might 
spread  the  infection  through  their  close-pent 
neighbourhoods.  There  is  a  talk  of  new  hospi- 
tals :  were  the  deprivation  told  of  Jamaica,  how 
soon  would  London  be  called  upon  to  wipe  off 
the  stigma  on  humanity — again  would  Exeter 
Hall  resound. 

"  What !"  an  orator  would  exclaim,  "  is  our 
benevolence  to  be  bounded  by  the  salt  waters 
of  ocean !  Is  it  to  be  a  thing  of  latitude  and 
longitude  !  Of  degrees  !  No — let  it  glow  in  the 
tropics — let  it  flourish  at  the  poles — heat  may 
not  dissolve,  nor  everlasting  frost  congeal  it ; 
as  it  is  of  subtlest  essence,  let  it  be  of  all-per- 
vading space.  Owe  we  atonement  to  Jamai- 
ca 1  Let  us  now  pay  the  debt.  Owe  we  health, 
moral,  physical,  and  religious,  to  the  long-be- 
nighted blacks !  I^et  us  give  it.  In  sickness 
let  us  tend  them.  Let  blessings  upon  English- 
men, and  redoubled  blessings  upon  English 
women,  be  heard  in  the  far  Antilles.  Let  us  fling 
not  only  bread,  but  healing  medicaments  upon  the 
waters,  and  after  many  days  let  them  be  found 
in  the  Islands  of  the  Caribbees.  This  is  not  a 
doctrinal  question  ;  beneficence  is  of  no  sect,  of 
no  colour.  Let  us  give  a  refuge  to  the  fevered 
wretch,  whose  parched  tongue  and  burning  eye 
plead  for  it  more  eloquently  than  words ;  and 
what  we  do,  let  us  do  quickly." 

And  why  not  1  London  can  wait  for  help — 
the  poor  of  London  are  used  to  it. 

Ever,  &c. 


LETTER  XXIV. 

Behaviour  in  American  and  English  Theatres. — London  Au- 
diences little  Intelligent. — Opera.— Its  Absurdity.— Hero- 
ine Swanlike  in  her  Death.— Injudicious  Applause. — Im- 
provement in  the  Drama.— The  Ballet. — A  coarse  Taste. 
—Singing.— Wild  Beasts.— Private  Theatricals. 

London,  ,  1843. 

DEAREST  JULIA — I  cannot  conceive  how  any 
lady,  excepting,  of  course,  Mrs.  Trollope.  can 
pronounce  the  behaviour  of  the  Americans  in 
their  public  theatres  ruder  than  that  of  the  Eng- 
lish !  In  an  English  theatre  no  provision  is 
made  for  the  superior  accommodation  of  la- 
dies ;  they  do  not  sit,  as  of  right,  in  the  front 
row  of  the  boxes,  nor  do  they  either  of  right  or 
courtesy  experience  the  attentions  they  do  in 
an  American  theatre. 

From  the  little  I  have  seen  of  the  theatres,  I 
mean  to  speak  of  Drury  Lane  and  Covent  Garden, 
as  well  as  of  the  Haymarket,  which  ranks  as  high 
for  good  acting ;  the  audiences  are  very  indif- 
ferent judges  of  power  in  dramatic  composition, 
or  skill  in  histrionic  impersonation.  I  have  known 
the  finest  touches  of  nature  and  poetry  in  one 
of  Sheridan  Knowles's  plays  pass  perfectly  un- 
noticed. The  judicious  few  who  can  appreciate 
them  may  not  give  their  pleasure  publicity,  for 
the  very  limited  demonstration  of  applause  would 
instantly  be  checked  by  the  indignant  audience. 
"Silence,"  they  would  cry.  "Order!"  "Shame!" 
Even  the  causticity,  the  point  in  the  comedies 
of  that  very  clever  Douglas  Jerrold,  could  not  in 
several  instances  penetrate  through  the  thick 
dulness  of  the  audience ;  while  an  allusion  to 
some  of  the  vile  popular  vulgarisms  of  the  day, 


AN    AMERICAN   LADY. 


with  an  appropriate  grimace  to  set  it  off,  "  steal- 
ing and  giving  odour,''  was  sure  to  be  raptur- 
ously greeted.  It  was  understood,  and  it  is  so 
grateful  to  a  dull  people  to  feel  they  understand 
anything.  The  same  with  respect  to  acting — 
the  exquisite  by-play — the  quiet,  subdued  ex- 
pression of  emotion  is  hardly  recognised.  I 
remember  once  in  a  very  thin  house  seeing  Far- 
ren  act  most  admirably  as  well  as  tranquilly ; 
no  applause  ensued ;  Mr.  Wilderton  offered  to 
clap  his  hands  once  or  twice,  but  desisted,  say- 
ing, cynically,  "  he  liked  not  to  monopolize  all 
the  well-timed  applause  :"  just  after,  a  little 
man,  whose  name  I  do  not  remember,  appeared 
on  the  stage,  made  faces  and  acted  coarsely, 
and  the  commendation  was  loud  and  general. 
Were  it  not  for  the  discriminating  and  often 
learned  criticisms  in  the  journals,  daily  or  week- 
ly— for,  oddly  enough,  weekly  publications  are 
often  called  journals — the  better  authors  and  ac- 
tors would  have  small  meed  of  proper  and  judi- 
cious praise. 

Of  late,  opera  has  been  the  most  attractive  in 
the  two  great  theatres.  Their  prima,  donnas, 
with  very  few  exceptions,  the  English  admit, 
exquisitely  as  they  may  sing,  intonate  so  indis- 
tinctly— it  is  common  to  hear  gentlemen  say, 
"  I  cannot  distinguish  a  word  she  utters."  Even 
Miss  Adelaide  Kemble  was  not  free  from  this 
fault ;  but  her  tragic  powers  were  so  great  that 
she  was  sure  to  interest,  and  more  than  interest, 
in  spite  of  it.  I  have  smiled  at  Mr.  Wilderton's 
critiques  on  operas.  "  The  rule  in  all  difficul- 
ties or  dilemmas,"  said  he,  "is,  simply,  to  sing 
a  song :  when  the  heroine  is  going  to  be  mar- 
ried, jilted,  betrayed,  executed,  or  excruciated, 
she  sings,  sometimes  sings  her  song  twice 
over  ;  any  executioners  that  may  be  in  attend- 
ance blandly  waiting  while 

1  She  plays  the  swan, 
And  dies  in  music.' 

Then,  when  a  tyrant  has  schemed  a  direful  mur- 
der— how  he  warbles  !  When  a  conspiracy  is 
resolved  upon,  how  harmonious  the  conspira- 
tors are  !  and  often  a  number  of  gentlemen  sud- 
denly appear,  although  not  admitted  to  the  de- 
liberations of  the  traitors,  and  sing  the  praises 
of  this  most  melodious  plot — most  probably  the 
only  plot  in  the  opera/' 

Once,  at  the  Italian  Opera,  I  heard  Mr.  Wil- 
derton very  happily,  as  I  thought,  quote  Chris- 
topher Sly,  of  the  Slys  that  "  came  in  with  Rich- 
ard Conquerer,"  and  will  continue  known  while 
the  language  is  known ;  for — but  what  was  I 
going  to  tell  you  1  0  !  Mr.  Wilderton's  quota- 
tion. "  Pray,  my  dear,"  said  Mrs.  Wilderton, 
"  how  do  you  like  it  ?"  "  'Tis  a  very  excellent 
piece  of  work,  madam  lady,"  was  the  answer  : 
'•  would  'twere  done." 

Injudicious  applause  must  always  have  been 
characteristic  of  an  English  audience ;  an  ad- 
miration of,  or  rather  relish  for,  what  may  not 
be  stamped  with  genius,  quaintness,  or  humour 
—what  is  merely  obvious : 

"  Such  is  the  shout,  the  lon?-applauding  note, 
At  Qum's  high  plume,  or  Oldfield's  petticoat." 

I  have  been  struck  with  the  excellence  of  the 
Shaksperian  performances  at  Drury  Lane,  and 
how  wonderfully  the  mighty  master  knew  when 
to  bring  even  mechanical  means  to  his  aid  :  the 
knocking  at  the  door  in  the  murder  scenes  of 
Othello  and  Macbeth  knocks  at  one's  very  heart. 


How  the  English  public  can  crowd  to  unmean- 
ing operas,  I  mean  in  the  national  theatres,  and 
let  Shakspeare  be  played,  as  is  often  the  case,, 
to  empty  benches,  I  cannot  understand,  except 
it  be  that  fashion,  however  paltry,  will  carry 
them  anywhere.  It  may  be,  also,  that  "true 
no-meaning"  not  "puzzles,"  but  pleases  them 
"  more  than  wit." 

I  have  heard  very  intelligent  critics  say  that 
the  drama,  the  tragic  or  classical  drama,  was 
now  superior  to  what  it  had  been  since  Otway,  or 
at  any  rate,  since  Rowe.  I  think  there  can  be 
no  doubt  upon  the  subject.:  Sheridan  Knowles, 
Sergeant  Talfourd,  and  Sir  Lytton  Bulwer  being 
no  common  men — no  managers'  playwrights — 
no  dramatists- to  order.  I  think,  too,  that  many 
of  the  comedies  of  the  day  must  be  pronoun- 
ced far  better  than  those  of  the  sentimental 
school,  where  broad  grin  is  alternated  with  the 
small  whine  of  sensibility — comedy  of  this  school 
always  seems  to  me  so  slow — it  never  "shoots 
folly  as  it  flies,"  only  as  it  crawls. 

I  need  hardly  describe  the  English  actors  to 
you,  for  they  very  generally  visit  America.  Ap- 
ropos of  visiting  America.  Mrs.  Richard  Davis 
told  me  that  one  clothier  in  the  cloth-market  at 
Leeds  said  to  another,  "So,  Lord  Morpeth  is 
going  to  America." 

"And  what  is  he  going  there  forl" 

"  O  !  just  for  an  out-ing;"  which  is  the  word 
the  West  Riding  Yorkshiremen  give  to  their 
Sunday  excursions.  Across  the  Atlantic  for  an, 
outing  ! 

To  return  to  the  London  play-houses,  and  the- 
atrical property,  or,  to  quote  Mr.  Dickens,  "what 

facetiously  called  by  that  name,"  is  not  pro- 
ductive of  great  profit  here.  I  was  going  to  tell 
you  how  I  had  been  pleased  with  some  come- 
dies that  were  so  equally  and  evenly  well  per- 
formed— servants  and  all — this,  I  understand, 
s  a  great  and  modern  improvement.  I  am  told 
.hat  in  some  minor  theatres,  where  the  audi- 
ence are  regaled  with  frequent  fire-arms,  much 
blue  light,  stamps,  roars,  grins,  and  Jack  Shep- 
jardism,  fortunes  are  made. 

The  Italian  Opera  House  is  generally  well 
illed,  the  boxes  being  rented  by  subscribers ; 
the  Italian  Opera  is  so  refined  a  pleasure — I  sup- 
jose  it  is  my  want  of  refinement  that  causes  me 
;o  prefer  Othello  to  Otello  (murder  set  to  music) 
— nay,  to  think  the  acting  of  a  scholar  and  a 
gentleman  like  Macready  more  enjoyable  than 
the  capering  of  any  active  French  girl,  even 
hough  she  can  not  only  stand  on  her  toe,  but 
whirl  about  on  it !  "  The  greater  the  fool," 
says  Hook,  "  the  better  the  dancer."  I  cannot 
describe  to  you  what  the  ballet  is  ;  but  I  think 
he  taste  of  those  who  delight  in  it  is  a  coarse 
aste,  a  superficial  taste  also,  which  admires 
tinsel  because  it  always  glitters,  and  gold  only 
sometimes ;  it  is  but  an  eye-pleasure ;  and  as 
to  delicacy — if  the  ballet  be  refinement,  delicacy 
and  refinement  have  little  in  common. 

The  prices  of  admission  to  the  Opera  House 
close  the  doors  upon  all  but  the  rich.  It  is  an 
exclusive  place ;  only  those  in  full  dress,  or 
hat  the  checktaker  pleases  to  consider  such, 
can  be  admitted  to  the  pit.  Sometimes  there 
are  letters  in  the  papers  from  gentlemen  grave- 
y  complaining  that  they  were  turned  back  by 
;he  mere  caprice  of  the  official,  as  they  had  the 
authority  of  their  tailors  for  contending  that 


LETTERS    FROM 


they  were,  in  full  dress — unhappy  man  !  As  he: 
majesty's  theatre  is  thus  the  resort  of  fashion 
finery,  and  wealth,  its  amusements  are  of" course 
called  refinement ;  it  seems  to  me  refinemen 
in  a  disease  —  craving,  unhealthy  refinement 
Mamselle.  Fanny  Ellsler  was  certainly  very 
successful  in  the  United  States ;  but  a  single 
dancer,  graceful  and  confident  in  herself  ant 
her  skill,  is  not  a  ballet.  Then  there  was  the 
very  great  charm  of  novelty.  Jim  Crow,  when 
a  novelty,  was  very  popular  in  England. 

The  great  theatres  resemble  ours  in  form 
only  they  are  larger^the  Opera  House  the  lar- 
gest. Concerts  are  frequent  among  a  people 
with  whom  music  is  a  passion,  when  it  happens 
to  be  a  fashion,  but  who  do  not  feel  the  elo- 
quence of  music  like  the  Italians  or  Germans. 
I  have  often  heard  very  clever  musical  perform- 
ances, as  well  as  pleasant  singing  by  young  la- 
dies, pretty  ones,  too,'  and  at  private  parties,  and 
the  conversation  has  hardly  been  interrupted, 
or  if  the  lady  of  the  house,  by  her  own  intent 
listening,  or  by  her  inviting  the  attention  of  her 
visiters  to  the  beauty  of  the  melody,  does  gam 
an  unwilling  silence,  the  moment  the  harp  or 
piano  ceases  to  sound  the  argument  is  resumed, 
and  carried  on  until  the  next  performance  may 
or  may  not  interrupt  it ;  it 

*'  Fills  each  pause  the  nightingale  has  made." 

The  hearty  school  of  singing,  if  I  may  call  it  so 
— that  in  which  Incledon,  I  presume,  and  cer- 
tainly Braham,  excelled — is  little  cared  for  now 
This  is  not  an  age  when  heartiness  is  a  recom- 
mendation. 

Then  there  are  societies,  and  schools,  and 
systems  to  teach  singing  to  the  million,  and  to 
teach  schoolmasters  to  sing  (who,  I  suppose, 
will  make  schoolboys  sing  in  reaction) ;  what 
practical  good  all  this  is  intended  to  accomplish 
I  have  not  been  informed.  It  may  be  contend- 
ed that  to  know  how  to  sing  ill  or  well  is  better 
than  to  know  perhaps  nothing  at  all.  Many  a 
boy  who  would  weary  over  Robinson  Crusoe,  and 
even  slumber  over  John  Gilpin,  may  be  taught  to 
sing  passably,  warblingly,  to  implore  a  man  not 
to  do  as  his  employer  bid  him  in  felling  some 
tree,  or  to  detail  how  firmly  Mr.  O'More  believed 
in  the  surpassing  good  fortune  of  uneven  num- 
bers !  Why  may  not  foolish  little  boys  and 
girls  sing  to  their  own  hearts'  contentment  (if 
to  none  other)  1  the  smaller  sort  of  birds  sing 
most.  When  great  skill,  both  in  acting  and 
singing,  are  found  in  the  same  person,  as  in 
Madame  Vestris,  Miss  P.  Horton,  Mrs.  Keeley, 
and  others,  it  is  delightful. 

The  rage  for  wild  beasts — that  is  for  tamed, 
and  drilled,  and  beaten  wild  beasts,  stage  wild 
beasts,  inured  to  the  smell  of  the  lamps — seems 
to  have  abated.  I  cannot  understand  what 
pleasure  people  had  in  seeing  lions  and  tigers- 
aliens  strangely  naturalized,  on  the  stage  of  a 
theatre,  when  they  could  see  as  fine  animals, 
and  note  them  closely,  in  their  Zoological  Gar- 
dens. Is  it  the  absence  of  the  natural  that  is  the 
attraction  1  a  gaslight  tiger  is  a  rare  creature 
certainly,  and  so  is  a  horsewhipped  lion.  If  a 
bear  or  a  sloth  could  be  taught  to  hum  or  whine 
"  Rule  Britannia,'1  it  would  be  a  very  inviting 
exhibition. 

Did  you  ever  hear  of  the  remark  made  by  a 
theatrical  machinist,  skilful  in  the  construction 


of  camels  and  elephants,  when  a  real  live  ele- 
phant came  out,  and, 

"  To  make  them  mirth,  exerted  all  his  might,  and  wreathed 
His  lithe  proboscis  ?" 

"  Do  you  call  that  an  elephant  ?"  said  the  man  ; 
"I  should  be  ashamed  of  myself  if  I  couldn't 
make  a  better."  Had  this  professor  of  animals 
been  asked  "Who  can  work  like  nature!'1  he 
would  have  answered,  "  I  can,  and  better." 

You  are  not  to  understand  by  what  I  said  of 
the  unintelligence  of  an  English  audience  that 
the  best  pieces  do  not  succeed  the  best :  they 
generally  do ;  the  people  are,  they  must  be,  im- 
pressed with  the  power  or  beauty  of  the  whole, 
in  spite  of  themselves  almost,  though  the  brill- 
iancy of  minute  parts  may  have  throughout  es- 
caped them.  Still,  there  is  an  art  to  hit  the 
taste  of  an  audience  without  much  wit  or  hu- 
mour, and  some  pieces  have  been  immensely 
successful  because  they  presented  very  old  jokes 
in  very  new  guise.  The  English  hailed  their 
old  acquaintances,  and  thoroughly  understand- 
ing the  matter,  as  no  great  demand  was  made 
upon  the  intellect,  were  delighted.  I  must  ad- 
mit that  the  good  acting  forced  you  to  laugh 
whether  you  would  or  no  ;  but  you  soon  smiled 
at  yourself  that  you  could  be  moved  to  smile  at 
those  antiquated  absurdities,  modernly  and  new- 
ly tricked  out. 

I  for  one  pay  little  attention  to  the  complaints 
of  the  dearth  of  histrionic  excellence — the  com- 
plaint is  so  perennial.  In  the  days  of  the  Kem- 
bles,  alas  for  Garrick  !  was  the  cry — now,  alas 
for  the  Kemble  and  the  Kean,  for  Emery  and 
Listen  !  and  so  will  the  changes  be  rung,  until 
the  curtain  falls  upon  the  last  drama  in  Eng- 
land. 

Private  theatricals  are  sometimes  the  amuse- 
ment of  the  great  in  their  country  mansions, 
and  no  nation  can  boast  such  country  mansions 
as  Great  Britain.  At  Woburn  Abbey,  the  Duke 
of  Bedford's,  and  elsewhere,  sometimes  a  series 
of  tableaux  has  been  given  ;  an  expensive 
amusement,  from  the  costliness  of  the  dresses, 
but  rather  a  tiresome  one,  I  should  think,  be- 
ause  only  the  eye  is  gratified.  Masquerades 
are  in  no  repute,  and  they  are  not  suited  to  the 
genius,  or  rather  the  character,  of  the  people, 
he  English  not  liking  to  step  out  of  their  own 
dearly  beloved  selves  even  for  a  night.  Fancy 
balls  are  an  approach  to  a  masquerade,  for  ele- 
gant dresses  may  be  worn,  and  no  farther  char- 
acteristic presented.  Lady  Jane  Grey  may  be 
passing  silly  ;  Charles  the  First  a  jovial  fellow  ; 
31iver  Cromwell  an  admirable  dancer ;  Bene- 
dict be  really  duller  than  a  great  thaw ;  and 
Hercutio  worse  than  Benedict. 

I  once  accepted  an  invitation  to  Mrs.  K.'s  to 
•vitness  the  performance  of  a  few  children, 
whom  their  friends  indulged  by  allowing  them 
o  play  some  scenes  from  Richard  the  Third ; 
he  ambitious  Gloucester  was  enacted  by  a  most 
ovely  boy,  with  long  curly  hair  and  intelligent 
;yes — his  name  was  Rilly,  and  after  the  tragedy, 
o  aid  us,  I  suppose,  to  wipe  away  our  tears,  he 
gave  us  an  excellent  imitation  of  Punch — his  el- 
jows  appearing  jointless,  and  his  voice  an  un- 
trained squeak.  Costume  was  not  historically 
observed,  although  the  dresses  were  all  of  the 
ame  era — the  present :  a  sofa  stood  upon  the 
)lace  of  performance — apart  of  the  drawing-room 
nclosed  by  folding  doors,  which  were  the  cur- 


AN    AMERICAN    LADY. 


55 


tain — and  remained  there  throughout  the  play,  |  the  Northern  towns,  York,  Durham,  Newcastle, 


whether  the  scene  was  the  Tower  or  the  plain  of 
Boa  worth.  When  Henry  the  Sixth  was  stabbed 
the  young  gentleman  who  represented  the  meek 
usurper,  afraid,  perhaps,  that  he  might  hurt  his 
holy  head  if  he  fell  upon  the  floor,  staggered 
trottingly  to  the  sofa,  kicked,  and  expired  there 
Gloucester,  or  rather  Rilly,  favoured  us  with  a 
new  reading,  whether  out  of  humour,  or  wheth- 
er he  thought  it  a  judicious  amendment  under 
the  circumstances,  I  do  not  know,  but  thus  he 
exulted  over  his  victim  .- 

"  What  !  will  the  aspiring  blood  of  Lancaster 
Sink  on  the  sofa  ?     I  thought  it  would  have  mounted." 

Adieu — I  am  really  tired — I  can  no  more,  be 
the  offering  ever  so  poor.  Ever,  etc. 


LETTER  XXV. 

Southampton.— English  Jocularity.— The  next  best  Thing. 
—Abbeys.  —  Isle  of  Wight.  —  Charles  the  First.  -  Pier 
Dues.—  Smuggling. —  Portsmouth. — The  Victory —  Nel- 


on. — Jersey  becoming  ; 
English  Steamers. 


DEAREST  JULIA — 1 


London  Suburb. — American  and 

London, ,  1843. 

intimated,  at  the  close  of 


one  of  my  letters,  that  it  might  be  necessary  I 
should  visit  Portsmouth,  one  of  my  solicitors 
accompanying  me.  It  was  arranged  that  Mr. 
N.  was  to  do  so,  and,  as  the  weather  was  fine, 
Mrs.  N.  would  bear  him  company,  and  he  would 
thus  combine  the  pleasure  of  a  few  days'  tour 
with  the  duties  of  his  profession.  We  went  by 
a  circuitous  route  to  Portsmouth,  taking  the 
railway  to  Southampton  in  the  first  instance. 
By  some  mistake  or  mismanagement,  my  place 
•was  not  in  the  same  carriage  as  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
N.,  so  I  was  and  felt  alone  all  the  seventy  miles, 
or  whatever  it  be,  to  Southampton.  There  was 
hardly  any  conversation  :  to  be  sure  when  the 
train  stopped  at  the  stations  there  was  an  at- 
tempt to  talk,  as  if  the  passengers  thought  that 
vords  were  expected  of  them,  and  it  might  be 
improper  to  adhere  too  rigidly  to  their  rule  of 
taciturnity.  Is  it  not  De  la  Rochefoucault  who 
says  that  men  never  find  it  so  hard  to  speak 
•well  as  when  they  are  ashamed  of  their  silence 


Carlisle,  etc.,  etc.  It  was  the  birthplace  of  the 
weak  and  irresolute  Henry  the  Third,  surnamed 
of  Winchester.  His  worse  and  weaker  father 
John  resided  there,  and  it  boasts  of  the  bones 
of  Saxon  kings  and  queens,  and  the  college 
founded  by  the  famous  William  of  AVykeham. 

Southampton  is  a  large  and  handsome  town  ; 
and,  at  the  head  of  the  principal  street,  is  a  very 
fine,  well-preserved  bar.  It  looks,  as  nearly  all 
English  towns  do  where  there  are  no  manufac- 
tures, clean,  orderly,  and  rich  :  it  stands  on  an 
inlet  of  the  sea,  called  Southampton  Water. 
Had  London  stood  here,  what  a  view  from  the 
ater!  What  a  forest  of  proud  spires  and 
ialls  !  Well,  things  must  be  as  they  may,  and 
cities  too,  I  suppose.  Southampton  was,  I  be- 
ieve,  the  birthplace  of  Dr.  Watts  ;  but  we  were 
not  more  than  an  hour  in  it  before  we  had  to 
embark  for  Ryde,  in  the  Isle  of  AVight.  The 
steam  vessel  was  not  very  fiftl,  it  being  too  early 
n  the  year  for  Cockney  migration  to  the  small 
sland.  The  sail  was  delightful :  on  our  right 
was  the  New  Forest,  whence  the  Conqueror 
drove  men,  and  women,  and  babes,  to  make 
•oom  for  beasts  of  chase,  for  he  seems  to  haver 
;one  beyond  Nimrod,  and  was  a  mighty  hunter, 
his  prey  being  both  man  and  beast ;  and  where 
his  son  seemed  to  expiate,  as  the  age  might  be- 
lieve, by  a  violent  and  early  death,  his  father's 
sins  and  his  own.  Lord  Byron  was  evidently 
proud  of  his  sins  and  his  forefathers,  or,  rather, 
proud  of  calling  attention  to  them  in  his  verses 
— an  odd  subject  for  pride  :  but  he  was  not  as 
other  men.  I  find,  and  was  rather  surprised  to 
learn  it,  that  the  English  have  been  at  the  troub- 
le of  erecting  a  stone  to  mark  the  sitew  here 
the  red  king  fell,  and  where  his  inanimate  body 
lay  until  it  was  carted  off. 

To  the  left,  about  three  miles  from  South- 
ampton, were  the  picturesque  ruins  of  Netley 
Abbey.  I  heard  a  gentleman  on  board  complain 
that  no  use  was  made  of  these  ruins,  and  such 
like  !  And  why  not  ?  By  all  means  let  the  util- 
itarian English  make  them  useful — here  were 
stones,  if  piled  one  upon  another  and  .called  an 
abbey,  what  matters  it  1  They  are  but  idle 
stones,  and  here  is  a  road  requiring  repair  ;  the 


I  never  was  more  convinced  of  this  truth  than  I  use  to  which  they  might  be  profitably  put  is  ob- 
on  this  journey.    Were  a  knowledge  of  French   vious. 
very  general  in  England,  how  popular  the  max- 


ims of  the  selfish  and  clever  Frenchman  would 
be  !  more  so  than  Lord  Chesterfield's  Letters 
"were.  What  conversation  there  was  as  we 
journeyed  to  Southampton  could  not  much  ex- 
haust the  intellect  of  the  speakers  ;  it  was  prin- 
cipally criticism  and  conjecture  on  the  weath- 
er ;  and  there  was  a  repetition  of  what,  I  sup- 
pose, the  English  consider  a  joke  ;  when,  du- 
ring a  stoppage,  water  was  pumped  into  the  en- 
gine, it  was  said,  "  Ay,  now  they're  watering 
the  horses."  Has  it  not  been  remarked  that 
the  next  best  thing  to  a  very  good  pun  is  a  very 
bad  one  1  I  suppose  the  same  may  be  said  of 
any  witticism  as  well  as  a  pun,  and  the  English 
are  proficients  in  this  "  next  best  thing." 

We  passed  Winchester,  but  could  see  little 
or  nothing  of  it.  I  should  like  to  have  spent  a 
few  hours  there,  for  it  is  one  of  the  not  very 
numerous  towns  in  England  distinguished  in 
the  history  of  the  country,  along  with  Oxford, 
St.  Alban's,  Canterbury,  Warwick,  as  well  as 


Perhaps  no  other  people,  possessed  of  the 
wealth  of  the  English,  would  not,  long  before1 
this  era,  have  converted  many  of  the  noble  ab- 
beys that  lie  ruined  over  the  island  into  cathe- 
drals or  churches,  or  have  repaired  them  for 
some  purpose  not  foreign  to  their  pristine  char- 
acter, and  thus  the  beauty  of  their  architecture 
would  have  been  preserved,  and  Christianity 
have  possessed  more  and  grander  temples ;  it 
is  now,  perhaps,  too  late,  and  all  such  ruins  are 
very  touching  and  beautiful.  What  a  memento 
of  human  uncertainty  it  is  to  read  how  some 
warlike  baron,  who  repented  him  of  his  slaugh- 
ters when  he  could  no  longer  slay,  bequeathed 
a  broad  domain  to  a  neighbouring  abbey  that 
his  soul  might  know  repose,  masses  being  sung 
for  it  by  the  holy  fathers  daily,  and — forever  ! 
How  short  an  ever ! 

The  water  was  perfectly  smooth,  and  we 
sailed  pleasantly  to  Ryde,  the  town  of  Cowes 
and  the  banks  of  the  island  looking  beautiful 
from  the  water.  And  off  the  Isle  of  Wight 


LETTERS  FROM 


•were  moored  a  great  many  pleasure  yachts,  kept 
by  wealthy  gentlemen  (they  form  a  club,  too) 
for  their  maritime  excursions,  regattas,  etc. ;  a 
manly  pastime,  and  well  suited  to  an  insular 
people.  Some  of  the  yachts,  I  was  told,  were 
magnificently  fitted  up,  cabins  like  London 
apartments  gone  out  to  sea.  We  landed  at  the 
pier  at  Ryde.  Some  one,  I  believe  Mr.  N.,  call- 
ed attention  to  the  beauty  of  the  water  as  it 
rippled  against  the  pillars  of  the  pier  and  the 
shore  at  Ryde.  "  Why,  yes,"  said  the  gentle- 
man who  advocated  uses  for  Netley  Abbey, 
"  but  it  washes  no  extent  of  business."  O  pa- 
tience, patience,  thou  art  indeed  a  difficult 
goddess  to  worship ! 

A  thunder-storm  prevented  our  leaving  our 
hotel  in  the  evening  at  Ryde.  On  the  follow- 
ing day  we  rose  early,  and,  engaging  a  convey- 
ance, proceeded  to  Carisbrook  Castle,  where 
Charles  the  First  was  confined  :  it  is  in  the  in- 
terior of  the  island.  In  a  few  months  after 
Charles  left  Carisbrook,  he  realized  the  truth 
of  the  saying,  thafcthe  distance  is  not  long  from 
a  king's  prison  to  his  grave  ;  the  castle  is  now 
one  of  many  similar  places  in  England  "where 
ruin  greenly  dwells."  The  English  do  not  yet 
agree,  and  never  will,  I  fancy,  upon  the  charac- 
ter of  Charles  the  First :  "  a  martyr,"  say  some, 
"  a  blessed  martyr."  "  A  tyrant,"  cry  others. 
Can  they  not  compromise  the  matter,  and  call 
him  a  martyr-tyrant  or  tyrant-martyr  ?  Assu- 
redly he  was  hardly  dealt  with ;  for,  if  Charles 
Stuart  deserved  the  scaffold,  what  should  have 
been  the  doom  of  many  of  his  predecessors  1 
But  so  it  is.  The  same  might  be  said  with 
even  greater  truth  of  Louis  the  Sixteenth. 
When  there  has  been  revolutionary  thunder  in 
the  political  atmosphere  of  Europe,  there  have 
been  always  victims,  and 

"  Not  always  on  the  guilty  head 
Descends  the  fated  flash." 

America  knew  how  to  revolutionize  without 
her  hecatombs  of  the  vanquished.  She  did  not 
like  Republican  France, 

"  Get  drunk  with  blood  to  vomit  crime — " 

certainly  the  most  disgusting  image  a  poet 
could  boldly  venture  upon,  and,  therefore,  the 
fittest.  We  returned  to  Ryde  just  in  time  to 
embark  in  a  small  steamer  for  a  pleasure-sail 
round  the  Isle  of  Wight.  We  passed  mansions 
and  grounds,  and  kept  gazing  upon  a  pretty  lit- 
tle island,  though  tame  and  English  in  its  pret- 
tiness  ;  in  some  parts  the  coast  was  bolder, 
and  there  were  caverns,  and  land-slips,  as  they 
are  called,  the  earth  giving  way  and  falling  in 
a  mass  into  the  water;  and  we  came  to  the 
Needles  ;  these  are  rocks  standing  out  from  the 
land  in  striking  and  fantastic  forms  at  the  west- 
ern corner  of  the  island,  very  fine  and  pictu- 
resque, but  far  less  bold  than  the  rocky  coasts 
of  Northumberland  and  Berwickshire ;  than  St. 
Abb's  Head,  with  its  myriads  of  sea  fowl,  or 
the  insular  Bass  Rock,  a  giant  among  giants, 
•whitened  with  its  solan  geese  ;  it  once  boasted 
a  tower,  which  was  the  prison  of  the  enthusiast 
Covenanters.  How  the  howling  of  the  winds 
and  the  dash  of  the  waves  would,  to  their  heat- 
ed imaginations  during  the  watches  of  the  night, 
sound  like  voices  from  on  high  ;  but  really,  I  am 
writing  of  Scotland,  instead  of  the  southern  ex- 
tremity of  the  island  of  Great  Britain. 


There  was  a  party  of  smart  youths,  evident- 
ly pleasure  tourists,  on  board  the  steamer  :  we  at 
first  heard  them,  en  passant,  prate  gravely  of  Peel, 
and  politics,  and  trade,  and  the  anti-corn-law 
league  ;  their  adjournments  to  the  cabin  for  re- 
freshments were  frequent,  and  so  were  their 
reappearances  on  deck  to  breathe  the  fresh  air, 
and — faugh  !  At  last  they  stationed  themselves 
about  the  stern,  and  sat  there  enjoying  their 
politics,  philosophy,  and  potations.  Mr.  N.  told 
me  they  conversed  sententiously  and  philosoph- 
ically in  their  cups,  and  were  very  severe  upon 
the  Puseyites.  One  of  them,  but  not  altogether 
aloud,  sang  "  The  Sea,  the  Sea,  the  open  Sea;" 
and  when  we  returned  to  Ryde,  they  had  to  be 
assisted  out  of  the  vessel  and  along  the  pier.  I 
thought  they  might  have  joined  in  part  of  a  song 
in  one  ofMoliere's  comedies — 

'•  Laissons  raisonner  les  sots 
Sur  le  vrai  bonheur  de  la  vie  ; 
Notre  philosophic 
Le  met  parmi  les  pots." 

Such  were  these  tourists ;  but  do  not  suppose 
that  the  English  drink  strong  drinks  more  than 
the  Americans  :  to  be  sure  I  have  small  means 
of  judging,  but  I  fancy  one  people  drinks  nor 
more  nor  less  than  the  other,  and  both  too 
much.  The  tax  upon  wines  and  spirits  in  Engf 
land  is  immense  in  amount ;  but  one  is  lost  ia 
figures  when  the  revenues  or  resources,  of 
Great  Britain  are  spoken  of.  There  were  some 
other  gentlemen  on  board,  with  whom  Mr.  N. 
entered  into  conversation  :  one  and  all  agreed  in 
condemning  the  system  of  pier  fees,  at  Dover, 
Southampton,  Ryde,  etc. ;  they  are  a  ceaseless 
vexation ;  the  charges  are  so  ill,  and  the  extor- 
tion so  well  regulated.  The  demand  for  pence, 
and  the  change  for  sixpences,  spoil  a  lady's  bag 
with  heavy  unpapered  copper,  and  her  enjoy- 
ment with  the  paltry  and  often  impudent  annoy- 
ance. These  pier-due  collectors,  with  the  whole 
craving  tribe  of  English  porters,  waiters,  and 
so  on,  following,  are  like  field-flies  in  hot  weath- 
er ;  they  inflict  no  great  injury,  but  are  noisome 
and*  unclean,  and  one  is  continually  pestered 
with  having  to  get  rid  of  them. 

Smuggling,  which  used  to  flourish  in  the  Isle 
of  Wight,  from  what  I  hear,  is  little  practised 
now  in  England,  except  among  wealthy  whole- 
sale dealers  in  French  goods,  who— it  "is  every 
now  and  then  made  public — have  contrived  to 
defraud  the  Customs,  but  seem  to  lose  no  char- 
acter in  consequence ;  the  matter  is  often  com- 
promised quietly,  and  the  smuggler  merely  con- 
sidered, what  displeased  Mr.  Dickens  so  much 
with  us,  "  smart."  But,  if  a  poor  man  or  wom- 
an smuggles  a  few  pounds  of  tobacco,  or,  in  a 
small  still  manufactures  a  few  gallons  of  illicit 
gin,  the  law  puts  on  all  its  terrors,  and  heavy 
is  the  punishment  ;  fine,  imprisonment,  ruin ; 
the  rich  smuggler  counts  his  gains  the  while. 
The  law  is  not  called  a  glorious  uncertainty  for 
nothing ;  the  penalties  on  smuggling  present  a 
curious  sliding  scale,  the  heaviest  penalty  fall- 
ing on  the  lightest  offender.  Just  and  generous 
England  ! 

We  were  a  few  hours  sailing  round  the 
island,  and  in  the  evening  purchased  a  prome- 
nade on  the  pier,  and  walked  in  the  neighbour- 
hood of  Ryde.  On  the  following  morning  we 
crossed  over  to  Portsmouth  ;  a  narrow  water, 
I  as  the  map  will  show  you,  separating  it  from 


AN   AMERICAN   LADY. 


57 


the  Isle  of  Wight.  A  large  seaport  cannot 
but  interest,  and  Portsmouth  is  fortified  too ; 
strong  bastions  are  erected  to  protect  it  sea- 
ward, and  they  bristle  with  cannon.  I  wish  we 
had  been  at  Portsmouth  on  one  of  the  days 
when  the  Royal  George  was  charged  with  so 
much  gunpowder,  and  its  explosion  at  the  bot- 
tom of  the  sea  showed  perfect  engineering  skill. 
Both  at  Ryde  and  Portsmouth,  indeed  in  Lon- 
don too,  were  chess-boards  and  men,  and  other 
ornamental  or  useful  articles,  made  out  of  the 
timber  blown  from  the  sunken  ship.  I  thought 
of  Addison's  Will  Wimble,  and  how  pleased  he 
had  been  to  have  made  tobacco-stoppers  out  of 
pieces  of  the  wreck— a  step  certainly  from  the 
sublime  to  the  trivial ;  from  being  familiar  with 
the  smoke  and  fire  of  death-dealing  cannon  to 
the  fire  and  smoke  of  an  idle  pipe  !  There's  a 
fine  moral  for  you ! 

We  engaged  a  boat  and  two  men  to  row  us 
round  the  harbour,  full  of  ships  of  war — their 
trim  cordage  showing  so  symmetrically.  We 
went  on  board  the  Victory— Nelson's  death-ship; 
on  the  quarter-deck  is  a  small  plate,  "  Here 
Nelson  fell ;"  and  we  were  shown  the  place 
where  the  hero  ("when  shall  such  hero  live 
again?")  breathed  his  last,  and  were  conducted 
over  all  parts  of  the  vessel.  It  is  said  of  Wolfe, 
that  he, 

"  Where'er  he  fought, 
Put  so  much  of  his  heart  into  his  act, 
That  his  example  had  a  magnet's  force." 

And  the  same,  I  am  sure,  may  be  said  of  Nel- 
son. The  Victory  is  now  used  for  a  naval 
school  of  some  kind.  We  went  on  board  two 
other  men-of-war,  and  drank  good  water  from 
tanks  where  it  had  been  fifteen  months ;  arid 
saw  the  gunners'  rooms,  with  the  deadly  imple- 
ments of  war  ornamentally  arranged  ;  cutlasses 
and  pistols  in  glittering  stars,  and  crowns,  and 
V.  R.'s.  War  without  such  adventitious  ap- 
pliances would  appear  too  horrible  to  be  con- 
templated ;  the  grim-visaged  monster  must 
smooth  his  wrinkled  front  to  be  first  tolerated, 
and  then  extolled. 

Portsmouth  harbour  is  simply  a  bay,  running 
up  between  the  island,  Portsea,  where  stands 
Portsmouth,  and  the  opposite  continent,  if  I 
may  call  it  continent :  it  is  commanded  by 
forts  and  guns,  and  we  heard  wonders  of  the 
dockyards  adjoining  it,  with  their  steam  ma- 
chinery, and  anchor-founding,  and  rope  twist- 
ing (yarn-twisting  too,  I  suppose).  This  was 
but  one  of  the  naval  stations  of  England.  What 
a  force  must  they  all  present ! 

It  appears  that  the  right  of  impressment  still 
exists  ;  and  in  case  of  war,  and  a  want  of  sea- 
men, would  no  doubt  be  acted  upon  ;  of  course, 
so  hard,  so  unjust,  and  tyrannical  a  law,  affect- 
ing directly  Englishmen  themselves,  enslaving 
them,  if  it  be  but  for  a  term,  is  never  alluded  to  in 
Exeter  Hall.  "  Be  to  their  faults  a  little  blind," 
says  the  rhyme,  and  the  English  are  stone  blind 
to  the  faults  in  the  manners,  laws,  and  igno- 
rances that  are  within  them  and  around  them  ; 
at  least,  they  very  rarely  offer  to  amend  them. 

You  see  more  naval  uniforms  in  the  streets 
of  Portsmouth,  else  they  do  not  differ  from 
other  towns.  Now  as  to  my  business  in  Ports- 
mouth— 

All  this  being  satisfactorily  arranged,  and 
H 


time  not  pressing,  we  determined  to  sail  to 
Jersey,  nothing  less ;  and  so  we  sailed,  and 
passed  the  Needles,  and  Hurst  Castle,  in  Dorset- 
shire, another  of  King  Charles's  prisons,  and 
the  Caskets,  which  are  dangerous  rocks,  and 
the  islands  of  Sark  and  Alderney — Alderney  is 
famous  for  its  cows,  but  Sark  is  famous  for 
nothing  that  I  heard  of— and  Guernsey,  a  small- 
er Jersey  ;  and  in  due  time  we  steam  along  the 
bold  and  rocky  coast  of  Jersey.  The  sea  was 
smooth  enough  the  whole  way. 

Jersey  is  an  interesting  island.  St.  Helier's, 
where  we  landed,  is  the  principal  town.  The 
Channel  Islands  have  been  attached  to  the 
English  crown,  I  suppose,  since  the  conquest, 
sharing  not  in  the  French  annexation  of  Nor- 
mandy, though  they  still  preserve  their  Norman 
laws  and  language.  s  They  are  untaxed,  and 
crowds  of  envious  Englishmen  hasten  to  Guern- 
sey and  Jersey  to  drink  brandy  and  wine,  mere- 
ly because  they  only  cost  so  much,  I  mean  so 
little.  And  the  natives,  I  speak  of  Jersey,  pre- 
serve their  patois,  and  the  peasant  women  their 
characteristic  attire,  and  it  is  such  a  change 
from  London.  But  now,  so  great  is  the  metro- 
politan irruption,  since  railways  and  steam- 
vessels  have  made  the  island  easily  accessible, 
that  its  distinguishing  peculiarities  in  dialect 
and  manner  may  not  long  exist. 

The  Rhine  is  now  pronounced  a  pleasant  river 
for  cockney  airings,  and  one  hears  of  the  Eng- 
lish quarters  in  several  European  cities.  Moore's 
prophecy  seems  near  fulfilment,  that  we  shall 
soon  have 

"  Some  Mrs.  Hopkins  taking-  tea         • 
And  toast  upon  the  wall  of  China." 

How,  then,  can  Jersey  hope  to  escape  and  re- 
tain its  primitiveness  1  No,  it  must  be  another 
of  London's  suburbs.  The  Channel  Islanders 
must  not  have  undutied  spirits,  wines,  and  to- 
bacco to  themselves.  Forbid  it  Whitechapel 
and  Wapping  !  I  had  no  difficulty  in  making 
the  natives  understand  my  French,  especially  if 
I  wished  to  purchase  anything  ;  understanding 
them  was  another  matter.  When  you  can 
throw  your  gaze  extendedly  over  the  island,  it 
looks  one  orchard,  but  its  cider  is  very  bad. 

Although  only  eighteen  miles  from  their  coast, 
the  French  were  never  able  to  make  themselves 
masters  of  the  Isle  of  Jersey ;  the  few  attempts 
they  made  were  always  repulsed,  and  when 
Major  Pearson — but  for  all  this  see  the  History 
of  England.  To  be  sure  the  possession  of  so 
small  an  island  is  worth  little  to  any  country, 
but  that  is  a  circumstance  slightly  regarded  in 
warfare ;  to  injure  is  the  aim,  and  if  a  bitter 
enemy  cannot  decapitate  a  foe,  he  will  strive  to 
sever  a  joint  from  his  little  finger  rather  than 
leave  him  unscathed.  If  Great  Britain  could 
not  be  invaded,  Jersey  could.  There  was  a 
good  deal  of  shipping  in  the  port,  and  St.  Heli- 
er's is  a  large,  handsome  town,  but  I  should 
not  like  to  reside  in  such  a  miniature  of  an 
island  ;  I  should  feel  so  "  cabined,  cribbed,  con- 
fined," and  should  often  murmur  a  la  Sterne's 
starling. 

Jersey  is  very  strongly  fortified,  and  I  was 
told  at  an  astonishingly  great  outlay,  that  is,  for 
any  country  but  England.  Fruit  is  cheap  and 
plentiful  in  the  isle ;  the  mildness  of  its  com- 
paratively southern  clime  permitting  grapes 
and  figs  to  ripen  in  the  open  air,  but  not  well;  I 


ftS 


LETTERS   FROM 


was  told.  I  was  informed,  also,  that  a  capital- 
ist was  attempting  the  manufacture  of  wines 
there,  and  with  some  probability  of  success. 
Cheap  French  reprints  of  modern  English  works 
are  common,  but  the  copy-right  law  very  proper- 
ly forbids  their  introduction  into  England,  even 
as  private  individual  property. 

It  was  rough  weather  as  we  returned,  and  I 
remained  below  all  the  rocking,  that  is,  water- 
rocking  voyage.  Those  Channel  steamers,  as 
•well  as  those  which  sail  to  France,  Belgium, 
etc.,  are  much  inferior  to  ours ;  indeed,  any 
transatlantic  traveller  must  admit  ours  are  pal- 
aces in  comparison ;  here  are  no  spacious  sa- 
loons, nor,  indeed,  spaciousness  of  any  kind. 
I  suppose  one  reason  is,  that  the  American 
steamers  are  built  for  river,  and  not  sea  navi- 
gation. I  wish  there  were  not  so  many  acci- 
dents in  the  West,  that  those  Mississippi  navi- 
gators were  less  reckless ;  but  they  have  such  a 
•wild,  headlong  love  of  danger  ;  such  as  the  poet 
rather  praises  ;  for  if  there  be 

"  No  lure,  except  the  danger  known, 
The  danger's  self  is  lure  alone." 

I  might  with  great  ease,  though  no  great  wit, 
tell,  after  the  manner  of  Boz,  of  "  surgical  plas- 
ters spread  on  inaccessible  shelves"  in  this 
Jersey  boat,  and  so  forth.  Boz  was  singularly 
unlucky  in  s'teamers.  The  berths  shelved,  to 
the  water  ever  and  anon  as  the  vessel  dipped, 
for  the  English  Channel  is  a  vile  chopping  sea, 
and  though  the  waves  have  not  the  prolonged 
roll  of  those  in  the  broad  Atlantic,  they  are 
quite  as  disagreeable  and  sickening.  We  land- 
ed at  Southampton,  and  thence  railwayed  to 
London.  Ever,  etc. 


LETTER  XXVI. 

The  Duke.— Lablache.— Extremes  meet.— St.  James's  Park. 
—Duke  of  York's  Column.  —  Hyde  Park.  —  Achilles.  — 
Fame  and  its  Moral.  —  Kensington  Gardens.  —  Regent's 
Park. — <;  Dagger  of  Lath." — Flute-playing. — Coleridge. 
—Opium-eating.— Mrs.  Dwyer. 

London, ,  1843. 

YESTERDAY,  dearest  Julia,  was  I  your  grate- 
ful debtor  for*  letters  and  compliments.  You 
are  no  votary  of  the  "  not  to  admire"  school, 
•which  I  think,  with  great  deference  to  the  poet, 
neither  makes  nor  keeps  men  happy ;  indeed,  I 
suppose  the  writers  who  advocate  non-admiring 
<lo  it  to  draw  admiration  to  their  statements. 
Men,  far  more  than  women,  in  my  opinion,  have 
strong  cravings  for  this  food  for  their  vanity  ; 
the  merest  dullard  seeks  to  be  admired  were  it 
only  for  his  dulness,  which  he  considers  be- 
coming gravity.  Even  Matthias  Doow  used  to 
be  pleased  when  called  "  miser,"  it  indicated 
the  English  virtue,  wealth ;  and  when  he  was 
told,  though  in  very  undignified  prose, 

"  That  never  yet  with  shilling  could  he  part, 
But  when  it  left  his  hand  it  struck  his  heart," 

he  felt  flattered. 

And  I  am  compelled  to  stay  here  a  while 
longer.  Sancho  Panza  was  right  in  declaring 
that  he  was  a  great  man  who  first  invented 
sleep;  but  "be  his  tomb  as  lead  to  lead"  who 
first  invented  the  law's  delay — a  lady's  malison 
is  written.  The  reason  why  I  must  remain 
longer  is  '  *  * 

I  have  just  returned  from  walking  with  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Mortimer  and  Emma  Wilderton  in  St. 


James's  Park — my  love  of  walking  renders  my 
"job"  more  a  sinecure  than  it  might  be — and 
we  saw  the  Duke  on  horseback  ;  men  pointed 
to  him,  and  looked  after  him  ;  and,  at  a  little 
distance,  we  saw  some  one  else  who  was  an 
object  of  remark,  and  when  we  had  walked  for- 
ward found  it  was  Lablache,  the  famous  and 
wonderfully  fine  bass  singer.  Emma  told  me 
her  father  often  hummed  when  he  saw  him, 

"  And  if  right  I  can  judge  by  the  size  of  his  calf, 
He  may  weigh  about  twenty-two  stone  and  a  half."  t 

Another  gentleman  was  with  him,  I  was  told 
his  son  ;  and  this  bulky  hero  of  the  opera  divi- 
ded the  regards  of  the  lieges,  at  any  rate  their 
observances,  with  the  hero  of  Waterloo  !  Ex- 
tremes meet  more  frequently  in  England  than 
in  other  countries. 

I  said  in  one  of  my  letters  that  the  English 
were  little  tolerant  of  foreigners  :  I  should  have 
said  the  lower  classes  were  so — the  London 
crowd.  But  1  was  making  the  original  remark 
that  extremes  meet,  perhaps,  in  no  place  more 
than  the  parks.  Here  strolls  the  listless  epi- 
cure, to  exercise  himself  gently  into  appetite  ; 
and  there  sits  a  man  in  every  mental  quality 
his  superior,  and  he  also  is  cogitating  about 
dinner,  but  it  is  how  to  obtain  one.  "  0  !  he 
dines  pretty  regularly  in  the  parks,"  is  a  re- 
mark I  have  heard  made  to  intimate  the  con- 
tempt, the  disgust  the  Engljsh  feel  at  hungry, 
dinnerless  poverty ;  whether  the  poverty  be 
the  child  of  misfortune  or  crime  does  not  at  all 
affect  the  feeling.  If  not  in  rags,  the  worse. 

On  fine  Sundays,  in  the  season  especially,  so 
many  are  the  carriages  of  every  hue  and  form 
in  the  parks,  that  one  might  conclude  coach 
building  was  the  principal  trade  in  London. 
Fortunately  for  the  people,  the  parks  are  royal 
property,  and  may  not  be  built  over  ;  besides, 
the  aristocracy  want  them  :  they  are  all  delight- 
ful places ;  St.  James's  the  most  so,  I  think, 
with  its  ponds  and  aquatic  fowl,  and  its  views 
of  Buckingham  Palace,  which  does  not  look  so 
very  palacelike  after  all,  but  then  it  cost  hun- 
dreds of  thousands,  which  is  highly  satisfactory ; 
and  it  has  peeps  of  the  towers  of  Westminster 
Abbey,  and  a  round,  lofty,  but  not  very  lofty  pil- 
lar, called  the  Duke  of  York's  Column,  sur- 
mounting a  sweep  of  steps,  up  which  you  can 
emerge  from  the  park  into  Carlton  Gardens  and 
Waterloo  Place.  A  figure  of  the  prince  crowns 
the  column ;  it  may  be  ascended  in  the  same 
way  and  terms  as  the  Monument,  but  it  has  not 
yet  been  used  for  suicidal  purposes.  Really,  it 
is  frightful  to  speak  of  such  a  thing  with  levity, 
but  it  is  another  proof  how  extremes  meet.  I 
was  told  that  a  simple  French  Canadian,  who, 
when  he  was  in  the  park  for  the  first  time,  and 
saw  his  royal  highness's  figure  in  its  proud  emi- 
nence, asked  if  that  was  the  statute  of  St.  James, 
to  whom  the  park  was  dedicated  ! 

On  the  Westminster  side  of  the  park  are  two 
large  ornamental  pieces  of  ordnance,  curious 
and  well  enclosed,  that  the  English  may  not 
touch  and  scratch  them  ;  and  you  can  walk  to 
Whitehall  through  the  Horse  Guards,  where 
two  equestrian  sentinels  occupy  separate  arch- 
ways in  a  most  approved  and  statuelike  man- 
ner. Here  stood  the  old  Palace  of  Whitehall. 
Marlborough  House,  the  town  residence  of  the 
queen  dowager — originally  built  by  the  govern- 


AN   AMERICAN   LADY. 


ment  for  the  victor  of  Blenheim,  I  can't  call 
him  the  hero — adjoins  this  park,  but  in  the  Pall 
Mall  direction  (you  must  read  my  letters  ac- 
cording to  the  plan  you  have),  and  so  does  the 
Palace  of  St.  James,  which  in  truth  looks  more 
like  what  it  was  originally — a  lazar-house — than 
-a  queen's  dwelling-place,  but  it  is  now  only  used 
for  state  purposes—drawing-rooms,  and  so  forth. 
The  dingy  brick  street-front,  with  its  old  clock, 
occupies  the  corner  of  the  angle  formed  by 
Pall  Mall  and  St.  James's-street ;  both  very  fine 
streets,  club-houses  costing  their  many  thou- 
sands in  each. 

You  walk  up  St.  James's-street  from  the  Pal- 
ace, and  at  the  top  is  Piccadilly  ;  turn  to  the 
left,  walk  forward,  and  you  pass  Miss  Burdett 
Coutts's,  Lord  Ashburton's,  the  Duke  of  Cam- 
bridge's, and  many  other  splendid  mansions,  the 
Green  Park  (an  enclosed  portion  of  St.  James's 
Park)  being  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  street, 
to  the  left  as  we  advance  towards  Hyde  Park. 
The  last  house  in  Piccadilly  is  Apsley  House, 
where  dwells  the  Duke ;  the  windows  at  one 
time  were  barricaded,  that  the  mob  might  not 
break  them.  Immediately  beyond  is  the  fine 
entrance  into  Hyde  Park,  almost  opposite  to 
•which  is  a  colossal  statue  of  Achilles  on  a  stone 
pedestal.  The  figure  was  cast  from  cannon 
captured  in  the  duke's  various  victories,  and 
caused  to  be  erected  to  his  honour  by  his  admir- 
ing countrywomen.  Nearly  in  a  direct  line  with 
the  statue,  but  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  road 
from  Piccadilly,  is  St.  George's  Hospital.  Were 
this  a  military  hospital,  its  site  were  most  ap- 
propriate— here  stands  the  statue,  a  tribute  to 
the  glory  of  a  great  conqueror,  and  there  the 
hospital,  that  glory's  moral ! 

Achilles  certainly  looks  very  wild  and  trucu- 
lent, like  a  man  who  could  drag  a  slain  foeman 
at  his  chariot-wheels — almost  as  bad,  though 
many  think  differently,  as  to  send  a  living  one 
to  die  an  imprisoned  exile  on  a  distant  rock. 
Mr.  N.  told  me  that  a  very  matter-of-fact  young 
Quaker,  who  came  to  town  from  Yorkshire  on 
some  law  business  (his  errand  was  a  pitiable 
one  if  he  were  personally  concerned  in  the  law), 
was  sometime  ago  with  him  in  Hyde  Park.  Mr. 
IV.  pointed  out  this  statue  of  Achilles,  cast  from 
weapons  of  whose  destructiveness  Achilles,  in 
his  most  sanguinary  moods,  could  not  so  much 
as  dream. 

"  Dost  thou  think,  friend  John,"  asked  the 
Quaker,  "  that  this  Achilles  really  existed  in  the 
flesh  ?" 

"  Why,  I  don't  know,"  replied  Mr.N. :  "there 
may  be  no  legal  proof  of  it ;  but  we  have  the 
authority  of  a  writer  of  repute,  one  Homer,  that 
there  was  an  Achilles." 

"Was  he  confined  1" 

"  Who — Homer  *.  Very  much  so  in  his  cir- 
cumstances, if  ail  tales  be  true." 

"  Nay,  but  I  spake  of  Achilles ;  and  liking  not 
to  say  anything  disrespectful  of  the  man's  char- 
acter, I  so  expressed  myself.  I"  mean  to  say, 
was  he  allowed  to  be  at  large,  and  accounted 
sane!" 

There's  another  moral  on  fame  for  you — was 
he  accounted  sane ! 

A  fine  carriage -road,  and  footpaths  well  fen- 
ced off,  lead  you  up  the  park  to  the  top  of  Oxford- 
street.  To  the  right  is  Park  Lane,  with  the 
Marquis  of  Londonderry's  house,  and  the  Mar- 


quis of  Westminster's  picture-gallery  seen  in 
the  opening,  and  the  large  mansion  the  very 
wealthy  and  eccentric  Earl  Dudley  built,  and 
numbers  of  others.  I  have  had  no  little  enjoy- 
ment in  the  parks  with  an  intelligent  cicerone. 

"  There,  look  at  that  graceful  lady— her  name 
will  be  long  remembered." 

"  That  young  lady  in  the  carriage  and  pair- 
why,  who  can  she  be  1" 

"  The  sole  daughter  of  the  noble  hard's  house 
and  heart,  Ada,  countess  of  Lovelace.  And 
that  pleasant-looking  (he's  not  tall,  you  see)  rec- 
ommendation-letter-faced  gentleman  (one  must 
coin  a  compound  epithet  for  such  a  man)  is 
Thomas  Moore.  And  that  old  gentleman,  upon 
whom  ladies  smile  in  a  way  no  younger  man 
can  hope  for,  is  Rogers ;  you  will  not  readily 
forget  his  countenance ;  his  use  of  wealth  is  a 
good  example  to  the  rich,  very  badly  followed. 
And  here  comes  one  of  Peninsular  fame — that 
old  gentleman  who  has  numbered  more  than 
four-score  years  and  ten — Lord  Lynedoch.  And 
that  soldierlike  man,  without  an  arm,  is  another 
hero  of  the  same  campaigns — Sir  Henry  Har- 
dinge.  And,  lo,  a  third,  whose  air  is  as  the 
former,  and  whose  loss  of  limb  art  has  wonder- 
fully well  concealed,  the  Marquis  of  Anglesea." 

At  the  western  extremity  of  Hyde  Park  are 
Kensington.  Gardens,  which  are  open  to  the 
public — a  delightful  promenade,  and  possessing 
that  attraction  so  grateful  to  the  dweller  in  a 
great  city,  fine  trees.  Here  in  the  mornings  are 
ladies  with  their  books,  and  gentlemen  with 
their  eye-glasses  and  sillinesses.  The  English, 
of  all  people,  have  least  the  gift  to  see  themselves 
as  others  see  them.  The  poets  and  essayists 
who  have  told  them  plain  truths  of  the  national 
character  are  considered  satirists,  and  the  Eng- 
lishman continues  to  believe,  and  to  believe 
firmly,  that  he  is  liberal,  humane,  and  wise  ! 

I  ought  to  have  told  you,  that  to  whatever 
public  exhibition  you  go  in  London,  you  must 
have  a  guide-book  or  catalogue.  This  looks  like 
a  tacit  admission,  a  presumption,  at  any  rate, 
that  the  English  know  nothing  beforehand,  and 
must  be  informed  upon  any  topic  at  the  spur  of 
the  moment — ignorance  is  accounted  the  rule, 
intelligence  the  exception.  In  a  very  nice  little 
guide-book,  distinguished  generally  by  excel- 
lent taste,  is  mention  of  Kensington  Gardens, 
Knightsbridge,  etc. 

"This,"  says  the  author,  "  is  the  spot  of  all 
others  to  see  the  finest  women  in  the  world  (as 
English  women  are),  as  well  as  horses  in  great 
numbers,  and  in  the  greatest  perfection." 

English-women,  as  well  as  horses  !  How  the 
English  man  peeps  out !  Another  line  amused 
me,  it  is  so  English  :  in  describing  a  day's  ex- 
cursion to  Greenwich — "  Go  over  Blackheath," 
says  the  author,  "  through  Lee  to  Eltham  ;  see 
the  ruins  of  the  old  palace,  now  a  barn,"  etc.,  etc. 

Now  a  barn  '.  O  bravely  done,  wealthiest 
monarchy  in  the  world  !  Eltham,  where  the 
Third  Edward,  with  all  the  pomp,  pride,  and  cir- 
cumstance of  chivalry,  feasted  his  prisoner-guest 
— King  John  of  France — now  a  barn  !  Well, 
palaces  are  not  in  America,  so  we  cannot  de- 
grade them  into  base  uses,  and  would  not  deal 
so  with  any  buildings  of  historical  fame. 

The  Regent's  Park  is  new  compared  with  the 
others,  laid  out,  indeed,  in  the  regency  of  George 
the  Fourth.  It  is  a  mile  or  so  north  of  Oxford- 


LETTERS    FROM 


street.  It  is  less  parky,  and  more  plantationly- 
looking  (one  must,  you  know,  have  new  words 
for  new  places).  The  houses  are  the  everlast- 
ing, if  not  long-enduring,  stucco,  outward  show, 
as  beseems  London.  This  park  is  under  the 
control  of  the  Commissioners  of  Woods  and 
Forests.  I  think  a  "  dagger  of  lath,"  as  the 
most  appropriate  crest,  should  head  their  orders 
and  notices  about  this  property.  The  Royal 
Parks  (I  suppose  I  may  so  term  Hyde  and  St. 
James's)  are  under  the  control  of  rangers,  gen- 
erally some  member  of  the  Royal  Family  ;  the 
annual  emoluments  are  very  great,  so  it  is  evi- 
dent the  duties  are  not  onerous. 

In  the  city — I  mean  London  proper — are  nei- 
ther parks  nor  promenades ;  but  as  the  wealth- 
ier traders  and  their  families  live  a  few  miles  in 
one  direction  or  other  from  the  city,  the  want 
is  only  felt  by  the  poor,  and  therefore  is  of  no 
consequence.  Some  late  medical  writer  has 
said  that  no  class  of  men  fare  so  sumptuously 
every  day  as  the  London  citizens.  Do  you  re- 
member how  old  Mr. ,  at ,  used  to  tell 

us  of  Cobbett's  remarks,  printed  or  spoken,  upon 
them  T  Cobbett's  mantle,  and  it  certainly  was 
peculiar  in  its  style,  seems  to  have  fallen  upon 
no  successor. 

Yesterday  evening  I  called  upon  Mrs.  B , 

and  gave  her  the  remittance  you  forwarded  to 
me ;  she  begged  me  to  express  her  gratitude  to 
Mr.  L.  A. ;  her  daughter  is  married  to  a  tide- 
waiter  in  the  customs,  and  her  son  is  clerk  to  a 
corn-factor — he  seems  silly  and  sentimental,  for 
he  regretted  that  with  his  salary  he  could  not 
afford  himself  a  piano  and  the  opera.  Sad  pri- 
vation !  but  he  plays  the  flute.  How  could  a 
man  of  genius  like  Coleridge  ask  for  a  second 
tune  on  a  flute  ! 

"  A£»in>  dear  Harmonist !  again 
Through  the  hollow  of  thy  flute 
Breathe  that  passion-warbled  strain." 

Passion  through  the  hollow  of  a  flute  !  Sense 
must  indeed  be  lost  in  sound  when  that  is  said. 

I  have  heard  that  opium-eating  is  becoming 
more  common  in  England,  and  wine-bibbing 
less  so.  Of  course  I  have  no  means  of  judging  : 
it  is  lamentable  to  find  a  man  like  Lord  Clive 
die  at  forty-five  an  opium-eater  and  a  suicide ; 
it  is  sad,  too,  to  find  a  man  like  Coleridge  having 
recourse  to  this  magic  drug,  to  escape  from  the 
annoyances  of  the  hard,  dull  world  of  England. 
I  have  heard  great  names  mentioned  here  as 
opium-eaters  ;  but  I  do  not  think  the  habit  likely 
tq  become  general ;  it  is  unsuited,  not  to  the 
genius,  but  to  the  want  of  genius  in  the  people ; 
they  are  too  matter-of-fact  and  commonplace 
to  be  fond  of  the  reveries  and  imaginings  opium 
inspires  ;  they  love  their  own  dear  selves  too 
TQuch  to  leave  the  sober  contemplation  of  their 
many  excellencies  for  the  fanciful  world  of  opi- 
um—a few  may  indulge  in  it,  but  the  many  will 
not ;  that  is,  Miss  Julia,  in  my  sage,  disinterested 
judgment.  It  is  clear,  very  many  of  them  could 
not  be  duller  than  they  are,  were  they  dosed 
•with  laudanum  most  periodically. 

The  Hon.  Mrs. has  just  left  town  ;  be- 
fore her  departure  she  presented  me,  as  a  souv- 
enir, with  a  curious  Indian  fan,  and — of  all 
things  to  one  about  to.  cross  the  Atlantic— Fal- 
coner's Shipwreck,  with  autograph  remarks  of 
her  own  !  Box,  in  what  some  of  the  critics  are 
rude  enough  to  call  his  caricature  vein,  talks  of 


"going  up  St.  Paul's  in  an  omnibus:"  the  feat 

were  as  practicable  as  to  induce  Mrs. to 

walk  in  the  path  of  good-humour  and  content- 
ment. 

And  widow  Honor  Dwyer,  the  Irish  applewom- 
an,  has  brought  me  a  present  (you  will  laugh) 
of  a  young,  but  well-grown — cat — of  some  choice 
stock,  too.  What  could  I  do  1  It  would  have 
pained  the  poor  woman  to  have  refused  or  ap- 
peared to  disparage  her  gift ;  doubtless,  like  the 
tear  Gray  gave  to  misery,  it  was  all  she  had  to 
give  ;  and  I  do  believe  Mrs.  Dwyer  had  heard 
something  of  Whittington  and  his  cat,  and  hear- 
ing I  was  going  to  far  foreign  parts,  thought,  in. 
her  simplicity,  a  cat  might  be  a  valuable  posses- 
sion. 

"And  shure,  my  lady,  then  it's  the  pussheen 
that  I  hope  will  be  a  credit  to  your  fireside,  long 
life  to  it,  and  remind  you  of  the  station-house, 
and  how  we  gave  him  a  taste  of  our  minds  (!) 
And  its  myself  that  often  wishes  to  tell  him  what 
he  is,  the  thief  o'  the  world,  but's  afeared  of  the 
thrubble,  God  help  me  ;  and  the  rheumatiz  that 
would  be  sartin  shure  if  I  couldn't  be  in  the 
fresh  air  the  day  and  see  after  my  own  turns, 
and  that's  the  truths  of  it,  my  lady." 

A  shawl  I  gave  her  would  see  her  through  all 
the  Sundays  and  holydays  she  had  to  live,  she 
said,  "gintalely!"  But  a  cat,  to  remind  me  of  a 
London  station-house,  and  how  we,  being  moved, 
did  speak  !  It  does  remind  me  (for  it  closely 
resembles  it)  of  that  cat,  a  Cupid  is  cutting  her 
claws,  in  the  Taming  of  the  Shrew,  in  that  illus- 
trated edition  of  the  mighty  master.  The  artist 
has  so  fine  an  imagination,  that  he  is  worthy  to 
illustrate  Shakspeare. 

Adieu — I  must  now  leave  you,  to  dress  for 
an  evening  party.  Blessings  on  the  inventors 
of  pens,  inks,  papers,  and  posts !  But  what  a 
desultory  ecrawl  I  send  you.  Ever,  etc. 


LETTER  XXVII. 

Packing. — Cerent  Garden  Market. — The  Unnatural  prefer 
red.— A  Fog.— Foundling  Hospital.— American  Vauntmg- 
ness.  —  English  Self-laudation.  —  Churches.  —  Cathedral 
Service. — Great  Want  of  Churches. — "  Impossible." 

London, ,  1843. 

MY  DEAREST  JULIA — My  delay  in  returning  to 
America  has  relieved  me  by  the  adjournment  of 
— packing — oh  !  the  horrors  of  packing.  It  is 
so  hateful,  that  when  any  one  of  the  many  here 
who  resembles  Dogberry  in  his  general  intelli^ 
gence,  and  in  his  being  "a  rich  fellow  enough," 
turns  a  poor  servant  or  relative  out  of  doors, 
the  vulgar  formula  is,  "  Come,  pack  up  your  traps 
and  be  off;"  the  packing,  you  see,  is  flung  in  by 
way  of  aggravation  ;  the  indignity  and  suffering 
were  incomplete  without  it  ;  it  is  an  additional 
smart  to  the  blister — a  tenth  thong  to  the  cat ! 
My  trust  in  Kathleen's  ingenuity  is  great,  for 
she  is  as  mat-handed  as  any  Phyllis  of  them  all ; 
otherwise  what  will  become  of  all  my  purchases 
for  presents  and  reminiscences'!  the  accumula- 
tion almost  frightens  me ;  they  will  present  so 
formidable  an  array  when  duly  parcelled  out.  I 
shall  be  most  amply  luggaged.  Well,  I  must 
be  patient  :  "  La  patience  est  amere,  mais  le 
fruit  en  est  doux."  Somehow,  people  like  not 
waiting  to  gather  this  pleasant  fruit. 

I  enjoy  a  visit  to  Covent  Garden  Market ;  an 


AN  AMERICAN  LADY. 


61 


enclosed  market,  smaller  than  Fulton  ;  such  ;  will  I  raise  your  curiosity)  where  I  was  on  Sun- 
beautiful  displays  of  fruit  and  flowers,  winter  j  day.  I  went  with  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Guy  in  their 
and  summer  ;  for  London  wealth  "  bids  Decem-  |  very  new  carriage,  which  its  owner  says  "  takes 
ber  yield  the  fruits  of  June  ;"  the  gardener  must  j  the  shine  out  of  all  Long  Acre  ;"  it  certainly 
force  fruits  and  flowers  for  the  rich,  when  Na-  |  glitters  as  if  all  the  varnish  in  that  coach-build- 


ture denies  them — that  Nature  does  withhold 
them,  is  the  reason  why  they  must  be  supplied. 
What  matters  it  that  strawberries,  peas,  or  po- 
tatoes, have  a  better  flavour  in  summer  than  in 
winter  1  they  have  been  ripened  naturally,  by 
the  free  and  common  sunshine,  rains,  and  dews ; 
they  are  cheap  ;  any  one  with  but  vulgar  pence 
may  procure  them.  Faugh  !  they  smack  of 
poverty. 

The  price  of  pineapples,  grapes,  peaches,  in- 
deed all  fruitsz  when  least  seasonable,  is  enor- 
mous in  American  estimation.  I  do  not  men- 
tion this  as  blame  ;  on  the  -contrary,  employ- 
ment is  thus  given  to  ingenious  industry ;  the 


ing  region  had  been  exhausted  on  its  panels  ; 
between  ourselves,  it  is  far  yellower  than  Mr. 
Guy  himself— but  I  will  not  keep  you  longer  in. 
suspense.  We  went  to  the  chapel  of  the  Found- 
ling Hospital — the  name  shows  the  nature  of 
the  charity.  'The  hospital  is  a  large  building, 
with  extensive  grounds  about  it.  The  institu- 
tion possesses  estates  of  its  own  ;  it  is,  indeed, 
very  wealthy,  for  much  of  the  ground  belonging 
to  the  Corporation  of  the  Foundling  Hospital, 
formerly  unproductive,  is  now  covered  with  fine 
streets  ;  indeed,  its  revenue  is  counted  by  thou- 
sands— but  whence  the  foundlings  ?  To  expose 
their  children  is  not  an  English  vice  ;  on  the 


gardener's  innocent  and  most  ancient  calling  is  |  contrary,  the  poor  will  starve  and  struggle  on — 
encouraged.  I  mention  it  to  show  you  the  j  themselves  ill-clad  and  worse  dieted — to  afford 
wealth  and  tastes  of  the  English.  Even  the  |  scant  food  and  clothing  as  scant  to  their  help- 
wives  of  the  inferior  shopkeepers  will  scoff  at  less  families.  If  one  reads  in  the  papers  of 


lamb  or  salmon,  when  "  it's  so  cheap  any  one 
can  have  it."  Aristocratic  race  !  Pity  that 
such  things  as  intellect,  health,  and  sunshine, 
cannot  be  forced  for  your  behoof.  There  would 
be  a  very  considerable  demand  for  the  first ;  at 
any  rate,  there  ought  to  be  in  the  high  quarters 
of— but  I  will  not  name  names. 

I  remember  having  been  in  Covent  Garden 
Market  one  day  during  the  winter,  and  had  af- 
terward to  call  at  a  shop  in  Cornhill.  It  was 
rather  foggy  when  we  started,  but  I  had  confi- 
dence in  the  skill  and  steadiness  of  my  coach- 
man. When  Temple  Bar  was  reached  on  my 
return,  the  fog  had  gained  its  culminating  point 
of  denseness.  You  cannot  conceive  what  it  is. 
It  may  be  cut  with  a  knife,  the  English  say ;  it 
is  like  molasses  in  vapour,  the  consistency  be- 
ing fully  preserved.  One's  eyes  ache  in  vain 
attempts  to  penetrate  the  gloom.  The  foot-pas- 
sengers go  warily  along,  guiding  themselves  by 
the  dimly-descried  gas-lights  in  the  shop-win- 
dows. All  hope  of  day  seems  forbidden.  The 
city  reminds  one  of  the  Valley  of  the  Shadow 
of  Death.  These  fogs  are  healthy,  some  say  ; 
probably  one  of  those  assurances  invented  to 
make  people  tolerant  of  what  is  unavoidable.  I 
felt  rather  alarmed  as  I  thus  sat  in  the  carriage 
be-misted  ;  there  was  a  long  delay.  I  had  put 
the  side-windows  down,  fearing  they  might  be 
broken.  Dire  was  the  vehicular  confusion  and 
the  blasphemous  recrimination.  The  English 
armies,  it  was  said,  "  swore  terribly  in  Flan- 
ders ;"  they  were  outsworn  that  day  at  Temple 
Bar. 

In  the  wintery  months,  when  the  air  is  often 
rarefied,  the  vapours  fall  and  mix  themselves 
intimately  with  the  congenial  dulness  of  the 
people  of  London.  The  fogs  are  more  or  less 
dense ;  sometimes  the  darkness  is  literally  a 
darkness  visible  :  one  can  see  it,  as  it  were  ;  can 
distinguish  it  from  the  houses  and  objects  in 
the  streets. 

Child-murder  (it  does  not  sound  so  horrible  a 
thing  when  called  infanticide)  has  become  more 
frequent,  the  New  Poor  Law  opponents  say,  in 
England,  and  is  not  very  heavily  punished. 
This  remark  came  into  my  head,  and  therefore 
into  my  letter  (the  pen  being  moved  by  the  brain 
as  well  as  the  hand),  from  remembering  (now 


some  unhappy  infant  having  been  found  expo 
sed  in  the  street,  an  investigation  takes  place 
before  a  magistrate,  and  the  child,  in  ail  proba- 
bility, is  sent  to  the  workhouse. 

I  could  not  very  well  persevere  in  my  ques- 
tions on  this  subject  ;  but  if  destitute  children 
are  taken  from  the  workhouses  or  other  chari- 
table institutions  and  placed  in  this  hospital,  why 
is  not  so  creditable  a  fact  made  known  —  why 
call  it  the  Foundling-  Hospital?  The  English 
generally  love  "  to  hear  their  nothings  monster- 
ed  ;"  but  they  seem  to  think  it  no  honour  that 
it  should  be  known  London  does  not  want  a 
foundling  hospital.  I  cannot  understand  the 
matter.  I  could  have  derived  any  information 


from  Mrs. 


about  foreign  charities,  but  in 


home  charities  she  only  takes  interest  when 
they  are  under  distinguished  patronage.  The 
charity  that  vaunteth  not  itself  is  very  oldfash- 
ioned  among  very  many  charitables  here. 

But  the  chapel.  As  we  were  proceeding  to  it 
we  were  stopped  by  gentlemen  with  plates  in 
their  hands,  demanding  the  price  of  admission 
—  a  silver  coin.  Havkig  purchased  the  right  to 
worship,  we  entered  the  chapel.  It  is  very 
handsomely  embellished  ;  the  service  is,  of 
course,  that  of  the  Established  Church.  It  is 
rendered  attractive  by  the  engagement  of  pop- 
ular preachers  and  professional  singers.  There 
was  nothing  of  the  simplicity  that  characterizes 
American  worship  ;  the  display  of  accomplish- 
ment in  song  was  far  too  obtrusive.  I  almost 
thought  the  congregation  (ought  I  rather  to  say 
the  audience  1)  would  have  hummed  applause, 
during  the  vocal  and  instrumental  performance, 
it  looked  so  like  a  theatre-chapel.  Pope's  com- 
parison of  those  "  tuneful  fools"  who  love 

"  To  please  their  ear, 
Not  mend  their  minds,1' 

is  shown  to  be  just  in  places  like  these  : 


The  remarks  we  overheard  in  coming  out  show- 
ed this.  "  Miss  Birch  was  in  capital  voice  to- 
day." "  Pyne  was  excellent."  The  preacher 
dwelt  calmly  and  eloquently  upon  his  sacred 
theme,  but  we  heard  no  observations  upon  that ; 
and  certainly  during  the  sermon  there  was  no- 


LETTERS   FROM 


thing  felt  of  the  theatre-chapel.  The  found-  j 
lings — I  suppose  I  must  call  them  so  by  courte- ! 
aj,  if  nothing  else — occupy  their  own  galleries, 
and  join  in  the  responses.  When  of  proper  age 
they  are  apprenticed  out,  or  placed  in  service.  < 

In  the  hospital  are  paintings  by  Hogarth, ' 
West,  and  others.  Mr.  Guy  said,  as  we  came 
away,  he  would  like  to  have  had  some  talk  with 
the  officers  about  Mr.  Thomas  Jones.  I  paid 
little  attention  to  this,  but  soon  found  the  re- ' 
mark  was  an  example  of  his  literary  knowledge.  \ 
He  had  heard  of  the  History  of  Tom  Jones,  a 
Foundling,  and  it  was  about  him  he  would  in- 
quire !  The  equivoque  might  have  been  curious 
if  any  interview  with  an  hospital  gentleman  had 
taken  place.  Mr.  Guy  affects  intelligence  in  all 
things,  and  is  a  tolerable  specimen  of  the  igno- 
rant American  braggadocio. 

I  think  the  boastfulness  imputed  to  Americans 
generally  is  a  trick  of  manner  more  than  any- 
thing else.  They  so  love  their  country,  that  to 
speak  exultingly  of  the  rapid  progress  of  their 
great  republic  is  common  as  the  daylight.  They 
are  so  proud  of  what  they  have  done,  or  could 
do,  that  they  must  needs  talk  of  and  amplify  the 
matters.  Their  boastfulness  is  not  so  much  an 
individual  feeling  or  quality  ;  it  is  more  of  their 
country  and  their  fellows ;  but  something  too 
much  of  it  unquestionably  exists. 

Englishmen,  on  the  other  hand,  think  very 
much  of  themselves  individually,  and  very  little 
of  their  fellows  generally.  They  cannot  boast 
aloud  of  their  perfections,  as  they  would  find  no 
listeners,  so  they  sulkily  muse  their  own  praise. 
Did  they  generally  proclaim  by  speech,  rather 
than  by  actions,  manner,  and  sullenness,  their 
opinions  of  themselves,  what  a  ceaseless  sound 
of  self-laudation  would  be  in  the  land  !  Corio- 
lanus  would  be  far  outdone jn  his  "Alone  I  did 
it !"  So  would  Louie  Quatorze  in  his  "  L'itiit  ? 
C'cst  mot."  Wisdom,  the  Englishman  would 
say,  intelligence,  soul — C'est  mot !  Sir  Godfrey 
Kneller  believed  (profane  coxcomb)  that  if  he 
had  been  consulted  at  the  creation,  the  world 
had  been  the  better  for  it ;  the  feeling  is  thor- 
oughly English,  if  Kneller  was  not. 

Jn  the  same  way  as  at  the  Foundling— by 
payment  of  fees — public  worship  is  accorded 
you  at  the  Magdalen  and  Philanthropic  Hospi- 
tals ;  in  others  too,  no  doubt.  The  English  say 
the  payment  of  these  weekly  sixpences  is  mere- 
ly another  way  of  paying  pew-rent.  But  the 
circumstance  which  chiefly  renders  those  places 
attractive  is,  that  the  intrusion  of  poverty  is  not 
permitted.  The  English  hear  plenty  about  those 
tiresome  poor  on  the  weekdays,  and  when  se- 
rene in  their  Sunday  finery,  think  it  too  bad  to 
be  troubled  with  the  sight  of  the  wretches.  The 
charges  for  admission  render  these  chapels  se- 
lect, and  the  visiters  feel  it  is  so,  and  are  pleas- 
ed to  feel  it  as  they  sit  to  hear  the  preacher  tell 
of  mankind's  sinfulness,  and  how  equal  all  are 
in  the  eyes  of  Him  who  cannot  err.  Is  this  a 
proper  Christian  worship !  The  argument  that 
the  admission  fees  go  to  benefit  the  charity 
might  tell  for  something  in  a  poor  country  ;  it 
is  another  stain  upon  the  English  character,  if 
in  any  meritorious  institution  snch  fees  are 
needed. 

Fees  are  expected  in  many  of  the  churches 
by  the  pew-openers,  to  give  a  stranger  a  seat, 
if  any  popular  preacher  occupies  the  pulpit.  If 


a  fee  be  offered  under  similar  circumstances  to 
an  American,  he  feels  insulted  ;  if  it  be  not 
given  to  an  Englishman,  he  feels  aggrieved,, 
perhaps  defrauded  !  Not  long  ago  I  heard  the 
Rev.  Robert  Montgomery  preach  (they  call  him, 
very  shamefully,  Satan  Montgomery,  from  the 
name  of  his  poem).  I  wish  I  had  not  gone. 
There  could  be  no  doubt  of  Mr.  Montgomery's 
earnestness  and  zeal ;  but  really — such  a  rhap- 
sody !  One  or  two  remarks  I  remember :  "  What 
man  says,  God  stereotypes."  "What  is  Sun- 
day railway-travelling,  but  atmospherical  blas- 
phemy '?"  But,  indeed,  1  have  no  pleasure  in 
telling  more.  Where  among  the  old  English  di- 
vines are  there  instances  of  this  inflated  style 
of  preaching — this  eloquence  on  stilts! 

The  cathedral  service  is  performed  only  in 
St.  Paul's  and  Westminster  Abbey.  I  think  the 
musical  performances  in  the  Foundling  Hospital 
may  not  be  commendable ;  but  very  different  is 
the  effect  of  music  and  chanting  in  lofty  and 
venerable  cathedrals ;  the  sacred  melody  rolls 
through  the  aisles,  and  seems  to  rise  heaven- 
ward, as  if  it  bore  on  its  wings  of  sound  the  as- 
pirations of  the  devout.  It  is  not  so  in  the 
small  chapels ;  if  the  harmony  there  be  so  ec- 
static as  to  take  the  prisoned  soul,  it  assuredly 
laps  it  in  the  remembered  Elysium  of  the  Sa- 
cred Concerts  or  the  last  Musical  Festival.  I 
envy  England  her  cathedrals. 

Churches  are  frequent  in  the  city— sometimes 
two  in  the  same  street :  these  are  old  establish- 
ments, erected  when  the  metropolitans  were 
much  poorer,  and  founded  more  churches ;  but 
there  are  complaints  that  many  new  churches 
are  wanted  in  the  populous  districts  of  Bethnal 
Green  and  elsewhere.  And  if  it  be  so,  why  do 
not  the  wealthy  at  once  build  and  endow  them  1 
Every  complaint  of  want  of  churches  is  a  deep, 
an  indelible  disgrace  to  England.  The  rich  peo- 
ple count  their  riches  by  hundreds  of  thousands, 
and  churches  are  begged  for — begged  for  of  the 
many,  the  poor — begged  by  due  notice  on  pla- 
cards, duly  pasted  "  rubric  on  the  walls  !"  The 
poor  Irish  can  build  their  chapels  and  support 
their  ministers.  Scotland,  in  its  poverty,  did 
not  complain  that  churches  were  loo  few.  A 
young  country  like  America  affords  means  of 
religious  worship  to  all ;  while  England — the 
stain  w  indelible! 

When  I  have  said,  "  But  if  these  churches  are 
required,  why  are  they  not  built  without  delay  V 
the  answer  is,  of  course,  "  Oh  !  it's  very  easy 
to  ask,  but  to  build  them  so  readily  is  impossi- 
ble." Their  way  of  excusing  all  deficiencies— 
IMPOSSIBLE  !  Ever,  etc. 


LETTER  XXVTII. 

Alison's  History  of  Europe.— Strange  Misstatement.— Du- 
ellers.—Farther  Misstatemeut.-Miss  Martmeau.— Histo- 
ry Writing  made  Easy. — Pronunciation.— Newspapers. 

London,  ,  1843. 

DEAREST  JULIA — I  meant  to  have  written  to 
you  yesterday,  but  somehow  I  was  not  i'  the 
vein.  I  was  idle,  and  so  I  read  the  last  volume 
of  Alison's  History  of  Europe.  I  had  read  the 
greater  part  of  the  work  before,  and  remember 

talking  about  it  with  Dr.  C ;  he  pronounced 

Mr.  Alison  a  Tory  of  the  oldest  school,  beyond 
modern  conservatism,  and  thought  his  deduc- 


AN    AMERICAN    LADY. 


63 


lions  and  reasonings  were  like  Touchstone's  ill- 
roasted  egg,  "all  on  one  side."  Not  that  Mr. 
Alison  intended  this,  quite  the  contrary;  but  his 
•writings  seem  a  means  lo  an  end— most  openly 
and  honestly,  the  while — and  the  end  the  dis- 
couragement of  Democracy.  I  read  his  Ameri- 
can chapter  with  unmitigated  surprise — his  pre- 
possessions may  be  father  to  the  assertion  that 
Democracy  is  dangerous,  but  he  should  support 
it  with  facts  fairly  stated.  He  makes  this  start- 
ling announcement :  "  Murders  and  assassina- 
tions in  open  day  are  not  unfrequent  among  the 
members  of  Congress  themselves,  and  the  guil- 
ty parties,  if  strong  in  the  majority,  openly  walk 
about  and  set  all  attempts  to  prosecute  them  at 
defiance."  "  So  common  have  these  acts  of 
savage  violence  grown  in  America." 

Here  is  no  tarrying  to  give  particulars,  nor  to 
cite  authority. 

"  Mark  you, 
His  absolute  are ?" 

That  little  verb  shows  that  the  historian  advances 
it,  as  an  essential  and  permanent  characteristic 
of  the  American  Congress  to  "murder  and  assas- 
sinate !"  Perhaps  the  Senate  is  expressly  ex- 
cepted  1  No.  Both  houses,  with  their  Adams- 
es and  Websters,  their  Clays  and  Calhouns, 
are  included — are  alike  to  be  presumed  guilty  of 
these  summary  "  acts  of  savage  violence  !" 
Perhaps  there  is  a  note  to  qualify  or  narrow  the 
positiveness  and  breadth  of  the  charge  1  Not 
so.  Then  of  course  the  author  is  correct ;  he 
could  not — he  would  not — he  dared  not  bring  so 
serious  a  charge  against  tlje  legislative  assem- 
bly of  a 'great  country,  unless  it  were  true  "au 
pied  de  la  lettre."  Surely  one  would  suppose 
not ;  yet  I  will  venture  to  say  that,  so  far  from 
its  being  true  that  such  murders  and  assassina- 
tions are  not  unfrequent,  not  a  solitary  instance, 
from  the  foundation  of  the  government  to  the 
present  time,  can  be  cited  in  proof  of  the  asser- 
tion ! 

Mr.  Alison  may  be  better  informed  on  this  sub- 
ject than  we  are  in  the  United  States,  for  I  am 
quite  unable  to  discover  that  there  has  been  the 
shadow  of  a  justification  for  the  stain  which  the 
historian  has  thus  attempted  to  fix  upon  the 
character  of  the  American  Congress,  unless,  in- 
deed, an  almost  isolated  case  of  a  duel  is  to  be 
taken  as  his  evidence ;  and  duelling,  however 
deeply  to  be  reprobated,  is  not  without  precedent 
(the  English  plea  to  justify  anything)  among  the 
statesmen  of  older  communities.  Witness  Pitt 
and  Tierney,  Burdett  and  Paul,  Canning  and 
Castlereagh,  to  say  nothing  of  the  half-public 
duels  among  Irish  members.  Why  did  not  Mr. 
Alison  say,  when  narrating  the  history  of  these 
periods,  that  no  man  who  became  a  member  of 
Parliament,  or  aspired  to  be  one,  could  hold  his 
life  safe  at  a  day's  purchase,  and  must  of  neces- 
sity be  skilful  in  pistols  1  In  later  days  we  have 
known  a  duel  between  the  Duke  himself  and  the 
anti- Catholic  advocate,  Lord  Winchelsea — to 
say  nothing  of  Sir  Robert  Peel,  and  a  host  of 
challengers. 

Mr.  Alison  asks,  "Is  life  secure  in  the  United 
States  1"  and  he  answers,  "No:  experience, 
terrible  experience,  proves  the  reverse." 

Why,  what  stuff  is  thisl  I  may  reciprocate 
the  question.  "  Is  life  secure  in  the  British  do- 
minions 1  No:  experience,  terrible  experience, 
proves  the  reverse." 


Landlords  have  been  shot  in  Ireland  in  broad 
day  ;  the  hero  of  Waterloo,  as  well  as  of  many 
a  well-fought  field  beside,  was  himself,  to  quote 
Mr.  Alison,  "  reviled  by  a  majority. of  his  coun- 
trymen, execrated  by  the  mob,  narrowly  esca- 
ping death  from  their  infuriated  hands:''  there 
were  savage  riots  in  Birmingham  ;  Bristol  was 
burned — these,  and  other  enormities,  give  terri- 
ble demonstration  that  life  is  insecure. 

If  we  adopt  Mr.  Alison's  inference,  that  in 
America  "  these  acts  of  savage  violence''  show 
the  weakness  and  intolerable  evils  of  Democra- 
cy, what  do  those  murders  and  riots  show  in. 
Great  Britain,  with  all  its  venerable  and  power- 
ful aristocracies  ?  The  fairhess  of  such  infer- 
ences needs  no  illustration  ;  their  admirable  lo- 
gic it  requires  no  deep  reflection  to  appreciate. 

Mr.  Alison  says  in  another  place, 

"  The  atrocities  of  the  French  Revolution, 
cruel  and  heart-rending  as  they  were,  have  been 
exceeded  (!)  on  the  other  side  of  the  Atlantic  ; 
for  there  the  terrible  spectacle  has  been  frequent- 
ly exhibited,  of  late  years,  of  persons  obnoxious 
to  the  majority  being  publicly  burned  alive  by 
the  people." 

Worse  and  worse !  Out  of  the  srnoke  into 
the  smother  !  Not  only  the  legislators,  but  the 
whole  nation  are  assimilated  to  Robespierre, 
Danton,  Marat,  and  the  rest ;  while  the  scale  of 
atrocity  is  rather  in  favour  of  the  Americans. 
Let  the  Frenchman  have  been  never  so  criminal, 
some  rising  American  genius  has  sinned  up  to 
the  example — and  beyond  it ! 

Persons  "  obnoxious  to  the  majority,"  accord- 
ing to  this  comfortable  historian,  are  quite  as 
summarily  disposed  of  by  American  republicans 
as  they  were  by  French  revolutionists  ;  they  are 
"obnoxious,"  and — burned!  This  is  certainly 
a  serious,  a  dreadful  charge :  is  .it  true  1  To 
say  that  a  person  is  "obnoxious  to  the  majori- 
ty," is  to  intimate,  at  least,  that  he  is  so  on  the 
score  of  opinion  ;  and  the  impression,  the  infer- 
ence from  the  wording  of  Mr.  Alison's  para- 
graph, must  inevitably  be,  that  people  have  been 
frequently  burned  in  the  United  States  for  being 
politically  unpopular !  If  Mr.  Alison  did  .not 
mean  this,  he  certainly  was  very  careless  in  his 
phraseology.  What,  then,  are  his  proofs  ?  Two 
paragraphs  from  Miss  Martineau — this  the  prin- 
cipal one  : 

"  Just  before  I  reached  Mobile,  two  men  were 
burned  alive  there  in  a  slow  fire  in  the  open  air, 
in  presence  of  the  gentlemen  of  the  city  gener- 
ally." 

How  circumstantial — a  slow  fire  !  One  would 
really  think  this  was  an  authorized  auto  da  fe. 
I  agree  with  the  lady  and  Mr.  Alison,  this  was 
a  dreadful  occurrence.  But  even  if  strictly  true, 
and  if  three  or  four  similar  cases  could  be  quo- 
ted, would  that  be  sufficient  to  justify  the  histo- 
rian's deliberate  and  wholesale  condemnation  T 
And  were  men  thus  burned  for  unpopularity  ? 
[Worse  this  than  the  French  crime  of  incmsm. ] 
Had  the  case  anything  to  do  with  opinion  or 
government  1  Any  analogy  to  the  French  tra- 
gedies of  1789 1  I  happen  to  know  the  facts,  and 
they  are  these : 

Two  negroes,  not  at  the  city  of  Mobile,  but 
at  a  country  town  twenty  miles  distant,  had 
been  tried  and  sentenced  to  be  hung.  They 
were  obnoxious  to  the  majority  certainly,  and 
why?  For  the  crimes  of  murder,  and  worse 


61 


LETTERS   FROM 


than  murder,  with  circumstances  of  peculiar 
aggravation,  on  two  lovely  children  twelve  and 
fourteen  years  of  age.  The  details  were  horri- 
ble in  the  extreme— the  little  brother  of  the  poor 
girls  was  beheaded  with  them,  and  shared  the 
same  bloody  grave.  The  case  itself  was  so  rare 
in  that  region,  and  the  particulars  of  so  shock- 
ing a  nature,  that  a  great  sensation  was  produ- 
ced throughout  the  state.  As  the  murderers 
were  conducted  to  the  gallows,  the  mob  (com- 
posed, not  of  the  gentlemen  of  Mobile,  as  Miss 
Martineau  avers,  but  of  the  lowest  classes  of 
the  neighbourhood)  seized  the  convicted  culprits, 
and,  despite  the  efforts  of  the  sheriff,  executed 
their  more  dreadful  purpose.  No  one  can  offer 
a  word  of  apology  for  this  breach  of  law  and 
humanity — it  is  worthy  of  all  detestation.  But 
does  it  warrant  or  support  the  express  declara- 
tion that  "life  is  not  secure,"  because  "  obnox- 
ious" persons  are  "frequently  burned  alive!" 
Is  not  such  a  misrepresentation  culpable  and  in- 
excusable in  such  a  work  as  the  History  of  Eu- 
rope! 

Mr.  Alison  has  added  another  name  to  the 
distinguished  historians  to  whom  Scotland  has 
given  birth.  What  would  he  now  think  of  a 
French  historian,  who,  writing  in  1736,  thus 
spoke  of  the  Porteous  execution  ? 

"  In  the  kingdom  of  Scotland  the  terrible  spec- 
tacle has  been  frequently  exhibited  of  late  years 
of  persons  obnoxious  to  the  majority  being  pub- 
licly hanged  from  dyers'  poles  by  the  people." 

Miss  Martineau  remained  some  time  at  Mo^ 
bile,  and  must  have  known  the  material  part  of 
this  case,  but  she  disingenuously  conceals  it ; 
and  a  philosophic  historian,  intrenched  in  his 
own  views  of  Democracy,  hesitates  not  to  quote 
such  paragraphs  as  sufficient  authority  for  a  long 
series  of  dogmatic  dissertations  on  the  evils  of 
republican  institutions ! 

"  O  shame  !  where  is  thy  blush  ?" 

I  am  tempted  to  think  that  Miss  Martineau, 
during  her  tour  in  the  United  States,  was 
not  unfrequently  mystified,  a  la  Sam  Slick — 
a  practice  in  which  many  Americans  are  clever. 
Could  not  any  one  (you,  dear  Julia,  with  aH 
your  timidity,  if  yon  choose  to  try)  do  into  his- 
tory such  premises  and  conclusions  as  these: 
History  made  Easy,  thus — or,  to  speak  after  the 
fashion  of  the  day,  "  History  for  the  Million," 
thus: 

"  The  evils  and  insecurity  of  monarchy  are 
palpably  evident,  and  the  disloyalty  and  disaf- 
fection of  the  people  of  England  cannot  be 
doubted.  Witness  the  frequently  recurring  at- 
tempts on  the  life  of  the  queen ;  farther  com- 
ment is  needless."  Or  thus  : 

"  The  appalling  progress  of  crime  and  vio- 
lence in  this  kingdom  is  but  too  apparent.  We 
need  scarcely  allude  to  the  names  of  Greenacre, 
CDurvoisier,  and  Good,  to  show  that  no  one  can 
rest  secure  from  midnight  murder  and  disgust- 
ing mutilation." 

Are  the  English  disloyal  1    No. 

Are  they  a  nation  of  murderers  7  it  life  so  un- 
safe there,  that  every  individual,  ere  he  or  she 
retires  to  repose,  must 

"  See  that  the  polished  arms  be  primed  with  can, 
And  drop  the  night-bolt ;  ruffians  are  abroad  ?" 

IB  this  so  1  Any  American  child  would  lisp,  No  ; 
yet  these  inferences  and  conclusions  are  just  as 
natural  and  right  as  those  of  Mr.  Alison. 


It  requires  no  ghost  to  tell  us  that  outrages 
have  occurred  in  America,  and  will  again,  par- 
ticularly in  those  outskirts  of  civilization  in  the 
far  West  and  South,  where  so  many  of  the  re- 
fuse of  Europe,  and  of  England  especially,  are 
congregated.  These  remote  settlers  become 
wild  and  rude  as  the  beasts  with  whom  they 
contend.  Frontiers  have  been  ever  more  "or 
less  lawless,  and  will.be  so,  yet  a  while,  in  Re- 
publican America,  and  would  be  so  were  the 
government  on  the  model  of  any  European  state 
whatever.  What  then  ?  Is  there  any  fear  for 
America  1  You  are  a  great  admirer  of  Words- 
worth :  let  him  reply,  and  bid  the  trembler 

"  Dive  through  the  stormy  surface  of  the  flood, 
To  the  great  current  flowing  underneath  ; 
Think  on  the  countless  springs  of  silent  good  : 
So  shall  the  truth  be  known  and  understood, 
And  thy  grieved  spirit  brighten,  strong  in  faith !" 

0  spirit  of  poesy,  thou  art  indeed  divine  ! 

I  know,  though  Mr.  Alison  in  his  extreme 
simplicity  may  not,  that  such  reckless  and  cruel 
misstatements  work  much  evil ;  they  tend  to 
destroy  all  healthful  reverence  and  affection 
among  Americans  for  their  fatherland,  kindling, 
instead,  irritation  and  dislike.  The  historian 
in  question  could  have  no  motive  for  promoting 
these  ill-feelings ;  the  greater  shame,  then,  to 
his  culpable  carelessness.  Would  his  valuable 
work  have  been  less  valuable  if  he  had  occa- 
sionally, while  polishing  his  periods  and  mar- 
shalling his  seven-leagued  words,  called  to  mind 
an  antiquated  saying,  touching  clearness  of  vis- 
ion for  the  mote  in  a  brother's  eye  ;  or  had  he 
not  forgotten  that  th«re  is  such  a  commandment 
as  the  ninth,  and  from  the  Most  High  1 

Really,  I  have  written  twice  as  much  about 
this  gentleman  as  I  intended,  and  yet  have 
much  to  say.  Well,  riimporte ;  happily,  Amer- 
ica, confident  in  her  resources,  can  afford  to  be 
evil-spoken  of,  and  is  pretty  well  inured  to  it 
into  the  bargain. 

From  an  historical  writer  of  the  language — 
though,  I  believe,  the  English  do  not  consider 
him  very  correct,  I  mean  in  his  style,  as  many 
Scotticisms  may  be  'detected,  and  we  know  he 
is  not  correct  in  his  statements — but,  1  was  go- 
ing to  observe,  from  the  inditing  to  the  pro- 
nouncing of  the  English  tongue  is  a  natura 
transition.  The  Americans  contend  that  Eng- 
lish is  spoken  in  the  United  States  with  greater 
purity  than  in  the  fatherland,  and  the  father- 
land laughs  at  this  as  "a'Yankee  brag;"  among 
the  lower  orders  in  the  two  countries,  I  think  it 
is  so,  undoubtedly,  that  America  speaks  besf. ; 
for  in  several  of  the  British  provinces  the  dia- 
lects are  so  uncouth  as  to  be  often  unintelligi- 
ble. A  peasant  boy  from  Yorkshire  and  an  un- 
schooled lad  reared  in  the  London  St.  Giles 
would  not  understand  each  other ;  they  must 
communicate  in  a  great  measure  by  signs, 
which,  if  they  quarrelled,  would  be  intelligible 
enough.  Among  the  educated  classes  the  differ- 
ence in  phraseology  or  emphasis  is  not  so  great 
as  I  expected  to  have  found  it.  The  Americans 
intonate  more  deliberately,  and  pronounce  more 
in  accordance  with  the  etymology  of  the  words  : 
the 'English  would  say  that  we  were  too  pedan- 
tic ;  we,  that  the  English  were  too  slovenly  in 
speech ;  and  they  do  clip  their  words  very  short, 
bite  some  of  them  in  two,  as  it  were.  What  a 
writer  in  the  Encyclopedic  says  of  his  native 
tongue,  may  be  applied  to  the  language  of  Great 


AN  AMERICAN   LADY.  65 

Britain  more  fitly  than  to  that  of  the  United  ;  existence  a  lady  must  be  ignorant.  This  seems 
States  :  "  On  prononce  une  langue,  on  6crit  une  j  to  involve  a  paradox,  but  so  it  is.  Can  the  same 
•autre."  This  slovenliness  is  most  unpleasant, 


I  think,  in  the  utterance  of  proper  names:  here, 
Saint  John  is  Sin-jin  (recollect,  I  write  of  the 
refined  in  speech).  How  do  Pope's  invocations 
to  Bolingbroke  sound  with  this  pronunciation? 

"  SIngin,  whose  love  indulged  my  labours  past," 

or, 

"  Awake  ray  Sinjin— " 

The  present  noble  family  of  the  name  call 
themselves,  I  am  assured,  and  are  called  by 
their  friends,  Sinjin.  Then  Saint  Leger  is  Seilen- 
ger — Warwick,  Warick — Cheltenham,  Cheltn'm 
— Holborn,  Hoben  —  Gray's-inn-lane,  Graz'n- 
lane — Marylebone,  Mariben — Campbell,  Camel 
— Cholmondeley,  Chumly  ;  anil  in  a  great  many 
more  instances  which  I  cannot  call  to  mind  at 
the  moment.  Some  hapless  letters,  you  per- 
ceive, make  their  appearance  in  these  words, 
for  no  better  purpose  than  that  of  the  painted 
and  highly-decorated  cakes  we  heard  of  at  a 
certain" stiff  party — to  be  looked  at — for  show. 
A  punster  might  be  tempted  to  say  such  letters 
•were  more  like  our  nice  Johnny  or  hoe-cakes ; 
introduced  to  be  cut. 

Our  friend  C.,  from  Boston,  was  more  than 
once  asked  in  England,  "What  language  is  usu- 
ally spoken  in  the  United  States?"  and  I  have 
often  been  complimented  for  the  excellence  of 
my  English  ! 

You  have  heard  of  that  article  in  the  Foreign 


Quarterly  Review  ?    Really,  a  letter  in  its  course 
somewhat  resembles  a  country-dance,  one  is  so 
often  "  back  again."   I  began  with  reading,  then 
writing,  then  speaking,  and  now  writing  agai 
you  have  heard  of  t 


— can  anything  so  bad  be  said  of  the  Press  of 
the  United  States  1    I  weary.  Adieu. 


LETTER  XXIX. 

An  Englishman  in  Love. — Colleges. — Puseyism.—  Luther. — 
French  Protestants.  —  Church  Livings.  —  Preachers.  — 
Rubert  Owen. 

London,  ,  1843. 

MY  DEAREST  JULIA — I  am  so  glad  that  our 
Cousin  Frederic  has  distinguished  himself  at 
Yale  College — a  worthy  son  of  a  worthy  sire. 
Going  to  marry,  too?  Well,  he  is  younger 
than  English  gentlemen  generally  are  when  they 
marry  ;  but  that  matters  not.  No  one  can  say 
Frederic  worships  a  mercenary  Hymen ;  he  is 
too  good  and  well-principled  for  that. 

"  Gold  glitters  most  where  virtue  shines  no  more, 
As  stars  from  absent  suns  have  leave  to  shine." 

That  scandal-monger,  man,  accuses  English  la- 
dies of  being  inveterate  husband  hunters;  but 
the  same  is  commonly  said  of  the  ladies  of  oth- 
er countries,  though  the  unique  gallantry  of  the 
French  forms  an  honourable  exception.  But 
no  one,  even  the  most  proficient  in  the  scandal 
school,  could  say  so  of  you.  In  my  opinion, 
any  young  lady  here,  no  matter  how  plain,  may 


readily  win  an  English  husband,  if  she  can  and 
will,  adroitly  and  continuously,  flatter  his  self- 
love.    He  cannot  resist  such  evidence  of  sound 
judgment,  acute  observation,  and  power  of  dis- 
course ;  he  lends  his  pleased  ear,  and  then  of- 
|  fers  his  most  precious  self.     I  can  hardly  con- 
some  English  gentlemen  take  in  such  matters  I  cei^e  a  tr,ue  wealthy  Englishman  in  love,  that 


not  acknowledged  with  a  sufficiency  of  grat- 
itude by  the  thoughtless  Yankees.  Here  is 
this  critic  now  can  coolly  overlook  the  abuses 
of  the  British  press,  to  expose  the  lesser  fiend 
of  the  American  !  Why  cannot  the  popular  au- 
thor grapple  with  those  ills  his  country  has, 
rather  than  fly  to  others  at  a  distance  ?  I  re- 
member a  couplet,  but  cannot  remember  where 
I  saw  it, 

"  For  foreign  pleasures,  foreign  joys,  I  roam, 
No  hope  of  pleasure  or  of  joy  at  home." 

Our  censor  goes  beyond  this,  for  he  roams 
not  for  foreign  pleasures,  but  foreign  grievan- 
ces, and  that  when  he  has  plenty  of  the  sort  at 
home.  This  subject  was  brought  to  my  recol- 
lection from  seeing,  in  what  I  believe  to  be  a 
respectable  paper,  "  Bell's  New  Weekly  Messen- 
ger," an  assertion  that,  of  the  two  surviving 
sons  of  George  the  Third,  "  one  was  a  villain, 
the  other  a  fool !"  Honour  to  the  vaunted  re- 
spectability of  the  British  Press — how  person- 
ality is  avoided  !  I  have  no  doubt  a  person 
whose  vocation  it  might  be,  could  select  similar 


passages  to  fill  a 
Scotch  gentleman, 


snug  volume.      I  heard  a 
rtio  had  resided  some  time 


in  Washington,  and  who  was  angry  with  the 
American  press,  say  that  there  were  "every 
now  and  then  strong  remarks  in  the  English 


jpers."     Very ! 
I  was  told,  by  the  Hon.  Mrs. 


that  there 


were  newspapers  in  London  of  extensive  circu- 
lation and  considerable  influence,  of  whose  very 


is,  honestly,  disinterestedly,  and  passionately. 
An  Englishman  in  love  !  Was  a  monumental 
statue  ever  in  a  fever  1 

I  suppose  the  young  lady  who  is  to  be  our 
cousin-in-law  is  the  lovely  girl  with  whom  we 
took  that  long  walk  by  the  sea-side  (you  re- 
member), when  "  day's  amiable  sister,"  as  Young 
calls  the  moon,  diffused  her  tranquil  and  holy 
light. 

WTere  you  not  amused  with  the  way  in  which 
Mr.  Dickens  describes  American  universities — 
not  what  they  are,  but  what  they  are  not,  and 
by  inference  what  others  are  ?  "  In  their  whole 
course  of  study  and  instruction,"  says  he,  "they 
recognise  a  world,  and  a  broad  one,  too,  lying 
beyond  the  college  walls." 

We  need  not  go  far  to  fix  upon  colleges  which 
recognise  no  world  beyond  their  walls.  Aris- 
tocracies are  things  of  sections,  and  then,  as 
was  said  of  Coriolanus,  they  are  "  vengeance- 
proud,  and  hate  the  common  people  ;"  and  col- 
leges here  are  things  of  aristocracies.  Self 
again  !  If  an  Englishman  cannot  be  exclusive 
and  intolerant  in  his  single  self,  he  will  be  so  in 
his  section — his  clique.  The  climate  of  Eng- 
land is  not  very  favourable  for  ripening  many 
things,  but  the  manners  and  institutions  of  the 
realm  do  ripen  selfishness  to  a  strength  and  lux- 
uriance unknown  in  other  countries. 

I  am  told  that  at  Oxford  they  know  little  of 
what  is  doing  at  Cambridge,  and  vice  versa  Of 
course  the  older  aristocracies  of  Oxford  and 
Cambridge  despise  the  modern  colleges  of  the 


LETTERS    FROM 


metropolis,  King's  College  and  the  London  Uni- 
versity. Why  ingenuous  youth  may  not  be  as 
well  instructed  on  the  hanks  of  the  Thames  as 
on  those  of  the  Isis  or  the  Cam,  neither  Oxford 
nor  Cambridge  has  vouchsafed  to  inform  the 
world. 

i.  I  understand  that  Puseyism,  as  it  is  called — 
that  is,  the  discipline  and  doctrine  inculcated 
by  many  influential  divines  at  Oxford— has 
made  little  progress  in  America.  It  is  very  dif- 
ficult to  define  what  Puseyism  is;  you  may 
best  understand  it  by  being  told  that  it  is  a  step, 
and  a  long  one,  towards  the  Church  of  Rome. 
I,  as  an  Episcopalian  Protestant,  feel  amazed 
at  the  proceedings  of  the  clergy  here  in  respect 
to  Puseyism.  Some  hail  it  as  a  regeneration 
of  the  Anglican  Church  ;  others  condemn  it  as 
a  deadly  blow  to  Protestantism.  Some  minis- 
•  ters  preach  in  their  surplices  ;  some  do  not. 
The  Bishop  of  London  (Dr.  Blomfield)  recom- 
mended the  morning  sermon  only  to  be  preach- 
ed in  the  surplice.  If  the  learned  prelate  deem- 
ed it  incumbent  upon  him  to  recommend  such 
a  practice,  it  must  have  been  from  what  he  ac- 
counted sufficient  authority  ;  but  why  only  rec- 
ommend 1  why  not  enforce  it?  Enforce  it  if 
the  custom  be  important  and  the  authority  suf- 
ficient ;  if  such  importance  and  sufficiency  be 
not,  why  the  recommendation  1  I  hope  that  in 
the  bishop  to  recommend  is  not  to  trim. 

Then  the  Puseyites  advocate  the  abolition 
of  the  present  system  of  pews  in  the  bodies  of 
the  churches — and  so  far  would  I  be  a  Pusey- 
ite  ;  they  would  unlock  and  unbarrier  them ; 
they  would  not  permit  the  slumbering  in  an  up- 
per pew  to  the  English  magnates  ;  they  would 
make  public  worship  in  this  respect  more  cath- 
olic, and  less  aristocratic.  The  English  dis- 
regard of  the  poor  is  evinced  in  their  churches, 
for  when  there  are  free  sittings  they  are  apart, 
and  ruder  than  the  purchased  seats  ;  tRere 
must  be  no  confusion  of  ranks  :  let  the  poor 
know  their  places.  Sometimes  an  opulent  gen- 
tleman, conspicuous  from  his  eery  audible  re- 
sponses and  richly-gilded  prayer-book,  occupies 
a  free  seat,  to  show  that  even  he  can  conde- 
scend to  worship  God  there  !  This,  Mr.  Wil- 
derton  says,  according  to  Southey  (how  lament- 
able his  lot,  while  the  rich  dulness  of  the  land 
preserves  to  the  last  what  is  courteously  called 
its  faculties),  this  is  a  sight  beloved  of  one  to 
whom,  perhaps,  a  lady  should  not  allude ;  he, 
however, 

"Did  grin, 
For  his  favourite  sin 
Is  the  pride  that  apes  humility." 

I  was  told  by  a  clergyman  that  he  wished  to 
introduce  the  Puseyite  plan  of  benches  into  his 
church,  and  mentioned  it  to  some  ladies  of  the 
congregation  ;  one  and  all,  though  fond  of  Pu- 
seyism generally,  demurred.  How  could  any- 
thing else  be  expected!  A  lady  of  quality 
might  find  herself  elbowed  by  an  humble  wor- 
shipper, whose  devotion  might  shame  her  luke- 
warmness.  Can  people  touch  pitch  or  poverty 
and  not  be  defiled  ? 

The  Puseyites  profess  a  doctrine  very  like 
transubstantiation  :  they  observe  the  Saint  days, 
the  vigils,  the  festivals  of  the  Church,  advocate 
more  frequent  fastings,  and  confession  of  sins 
in  private  to  a  priest ;  prefer  celibacy  to  mar- 
riage in  the  clergy ;  would  have  more  prayers 


and  fewer  preachings  in  the  churches ;  desire- 
a  more  stringent  control  over  the  church-war- 
dens and  lay-officers  connected  with  the  estab- 
lishment ;  would  introduce  alterations  into  the 
offertory,  and,  if  possible,  hold  it  weekly  ;  and, 
finally,  as  most  important,  would  refer  all  things 
to  the  authority  of  THE  CHURCH  The  Bishop 
of  London,  moreover,  recommends  or  allows 
candles  at  the  altar,  but  they  must  not  be  light- 
ed. If  everything  must  be  yielded  to  the  decis- 
ion and  authority  of  THE  CHURCH,  is  it  not  an 
admission,  direct  or  indirect  matters  little,  that 
THE  CHURCH  will  not  err,  and  therefore  is  in- 
fallible? Does  that  tend  to  popery?  There 
may  still  be  a  narrowing  gulf  between  Puseyism 
and  popery;  but  if  much  of  the  Roman  Church 
doctrine  and  discipline  is  still  objected  to  by 
the  English  Tractarians,  very  much  has  been  . 
conceded  to  them ;  be  the  steps  of  difference 
from  one  creed  to  the  other  few  or  many,  diffi-  - 
cult  or  easy,  some  of  the  Puseyites  have  taken 
them. 

The  Rev.  Mr.  Sibthorpe  and  others  have  open- 
ly become  members  of  the  Church  of  Rome. 
Dr.  Pusey  himself  has  recently  preached  a  ser- 
mon in  his  church  at  Oxford  decidedly  in  ad- 
vocacy of  some  important  Romanist  doctrines, 
though  he  did  not  call  them  by  their  Romanist 
names  ;  in  consequence  of  this,  the  university 
authorities  have  suspended  him  from  preaching 
for  two  years.  The  reverend  dignitary  seems 
now  to  stand  halting  midway  between  the  church- 
es of  Rome  and  England,  holding  out  the  right 
hand  to  one  and  the  left  hand  to  the  other,  and 
wholly  embracing  neither. 

On  one  occasion  I  heard  a  leading  Tractarian, 
the  Hon.  and  Rev.  Mr.  Perceval,  one  of  the 
queen's  chaplains,  preach  a  sermon,  in  which 
he  declared  that  one  of  the  crying  sins  of  the 
age  was,  that  people  imagined  they  had  a  right 
in  matters  of  religion  to  think  for  themselves  i 
This,  he  said,  was  the  same  sin  as  worshipping 
the  golden  calf  in  the  wilderness !  The  infer- 
ence to  he  drawn  is  obvious:  if  people  may 
not  think  for  themselves,  THE  CHURCH  must 
think  for  them ;  and  her  dictature  is  not  to  be 
criticised,  but  obeyed.  Had  this  doctrine  been 
acted  upon  by  Henry  the  Eighth,  the  then  es- 
tablished Church,  and  a  non-judging,  non-think- 
ing people,  it  is  clear  that  the  Hon.  and  Rev. 
Mr.  Perceval  would  never  have  been  a  Protest- 
ant chaplain  (if  I  may  call  him  so)  to  a  Protest- 
ant queen. 

I  have  noticed  that  when  a  minister  of  the- 
Church  is  also  a  son  of  a  peer,  and  has  the  priv- 
ilege of  attaching  "  Honourable"  to  his  name, 
that  designation  precedes  the  one  to  which  he 
is  entitled  by  right  of  his  sacerdotal  character  : 
"  Hon."  has  the  priority  of  "  Rev."  This  may 
be  a  matter  of  little  consequence  ;  but  is  it  not 
rather  an  elevation  of  an  earthly  vanity?  Is 
the  accident  of  birth  to  be  more  reverenced  than 
the  ministry  of  Christ?  The  fashion  is  the 
same  if  the  highest  offices  of  the  Church,  even 
those  conferring  baronial  rank,  have  been  at- 
tained, to  wit,  the  Hon.  and  Right  Ken.  Dr.  Per- 
cy, bishop  of  Carlisle.  The  appellation  of  the 
mere  man  ought  not  to  have  preference  of  that 
of  the  minister. 

Authority,  Church  Authority,  seems  all  in  all 
with  the  Pusejitos,  who  are  the  Highest  High- 
Church  ;  they  may  not  expressly  inculcate  pas- 


AN   AMERICAN   LADY. 


67 


sive  obedience  in  temporal  matters,  but  it  seems 
to  follow  as  the  night  the  day.  If  obedience 
must  be  unhesitatingly  yielded  to  the  spiritual 
authority  of  the  true  Church,  on  what  plea  is  it 
to  be  at  any  time  refused  to  temporal  authority, 
lawfully  constituted]  Or,  if  resistance  to  it  be 
sometimes  lawful  (as  I  suppose  they  might  ad- 
mit it  was  to  James  Stuart),  who  is  to  judge 
of  the  lawfulness  1  THE  CHURCH  ]  These  doc- 
trines legitimately  carried  out  might  make  the 
English  exclaim,  "What  have  the  Reformation 
or  the  Revolution  availed  us  1"  Many  of  the 
Puseyites,  which  is  hardly  fair,  profess  great 
horror  of  popery,  and  call  it  unhandsome  names, 
and  idolatrous. 

When  authority  is  so  much  talked  about, 
what,  you  may  ask,  what  of  Scripture  the  while, 
what  of  reason  ]  Alas  !  they  are  little  regard- 
ed in  England.  Dr.  Pusey  or  Mr.  Newman 
seems  as  absolute  as  St.  Paul.  By-the-by,  I 
believe  it  was  the  Rev.  Sydney  Smith  who  call- 
ed the  Puseyites  New  Maniacs,  from  the  name 
of  one  of  the  chief  writers  in  the  Tracts  for  the 
Times,  which  first  introduced  this  Protestant 
popery,  this  papistical  Protestantism,  to  the 
English.  One  remarkable  circumstance  in  this 
controversy  is,  that  the  bishops  seem  to  take 
no  decisive  part.  Do  they  consider  Puseyism 
right,  why  not  uphold  the  right  1  Wrong,  why 
not  repress  the  wrong  1  If  partly  right  and  part- 
ly wrong,  why  not  sever  the  noxious  tares  from 
the  healthful  corn]  Are  they  non-essential 
things,  these  Tractarian  innovations  or  restora- 
tions, why  is  it  not  so  set  down  in  episcopal 
print]  The  Puseyites  fully  acknowledge  the 
authority  of  the  bishops ;  but  how  if  the  right 
reverend  bench  be  not  of  one  mind  ]  To  whom, 
then,  are  the  members  of  the  Anglican  Church 
to  look  for  guidance  and  instruction]  What  is 
THE  CHURCH  ]  Who  represent  it  1 

I  ought  to  tell  you  the  Puseyite  clergy,  all 
admit,  are  exemplary  in  their  lives  :  their  piety 
would  do  honour  to  any  creed  ;  whether  their 
doctrines  will  work  innovation  upon  the  Church 
of  England  or  not,  who  can  <say]  Puseyism 
has  at  least  one  symptom  that  has  heralded 
great  spiritual  changes — it  professes  little  at  the 
outset.  Luther  began  with  exclaiming  against 
the  indulgences  of  the  Church  of  Rome,  and 
only  that. 

Martin  Luther,  by-the-way,  has  been  shown 
by  the  learned  historian,  Mr.  Hallam,  to  have 
been  a  Calvinist  (how  he  would  have  chafed  at 
the  name!).  Mr.  Hallam  bears  out  the  asser- 
tion Mynheer  was  fond  of  making — of  the  beau- 
ty of  Luther's  hymns — for  he  says,  "The  hymns 
in  use  with  the  Lutheran  Church,  many  of 
which  'are  his  own,  possess  a  simple  dignity 
and  devoutness,  never  probably  excelled  in  that 
class  of  poetry,  and  alike  distinguished  from  the 
poverty  of  Sternhold  or  Brady,  and  from  the 
meretricious  ornament  of  late  writers." 

The  English  are  fond  of  telling  of  the  diver- 
sities of  creeds  with  us  ;  the  same  are  in  Great 
Britain,  nor  more  nor  less.  Mrs.  Trollope,  when 
she  wrote  of  the  observances  of  the  Methodists, 
and  other  classes  in  the  United  States,  seems  to 
have  been  in  blissful  ignorance  that  they  were 
very  similar  to  their  observances  in  her  own 
country.  You  will  smile ;  but  I  do  assure  you 
that  Mrs.  Trollope's  not  unamusing  exaggera- 
tions are  believed  by  some  of  the  English  to 


represent  the  veritable  state  of  religion  in  Amer- 
ica !  The  Evangelical  or  Low-Church  party 
here  also  complain  of  her  exaggerations  of  them 
and  their  deeds,  so  that  the  good  old  lady  ap- 
pears impartial  in  her  satire.  Our  Shakers  are 
more  respectable  than  the  English  Southcotians. 
I  mean  "  respectable"  in  the  proper,  not  the 
modern  English  sense,  though  it  may  be  so  in 
that  sense  likewise. 

The  Wesleyans  of  Great  Britain  (among 
them  also  is  a  schism)  are  numerous,  influen- 
tial, and  wealthy  ;  they  have  a  noble  hall  in  the 
city,  handsomer  than  many  of  the  club-houses. 
I  forget  how  many  thousand  pounds  were  ex- 
pended upon  it :  here  they  hold  their  public  and 
conference  meetings.  Foreign  churches  and 
chapels  are  of  course  frequent  in  so  enormous 
a  capital  as  London.  Among  the  most  inter- 
esting of  the  foreign  Christians,  are  the  French 
Protestants  :  some  of  them  very  probably  de- 
scendants of  those  who  fled  from  the  Massacre 
of  St.  Bartholomew  ;  their  old  Queen  Elizabeth 
church,  near  the  Royal  Exchange,  has  been 
pulled  down,  and  a  nondescript-looking  place 
with  some  unintelligible  allegories  outside  it, 
called,  I  believe,  the  Hall  of  Commerce,  reigns 
in  its  stead.  This  is  English,  very.  Where 
there  was  a  House  of  God  there  is  a  Hall  of  Com- 
merce— trade  has  superseded  religion.  How 
happens  it  that  in  England  one  never  hears  of 
a  church  superseding  a  lay  building] 

Of  course  you  have  heard  of  the  inequality 
of  the  Church  livings  in  England  ;  how  in  their 
emoluments  they  are  small  by  degrees  and  un- 
beautifully  less ;  they  taper  down  from  thousands 
to  tens  of  pounds  annually;  to  correct  this  by 
augmenting  the  smaller  livings  is  of  course 
"  impossible  ;"  it  is  hardly  worth  while  to  show 
you  that  this  is  not  only  possible,  but  easy. 
The  Protestant  dissenters  in  England  support 
their  own  ministers,  build  their  own  chapels, 
and  have  to  pay  tithes  and  rates  to  the  estab- 
lishment beside ;  so  out  of  the  depths  of  their 
poverty  do  the  Irish  Roman  Catholics ;  how, 
then,  can  the  thousands  of  affluent  churchmen: 
in  England  find  it  "  impossible"  to  prevent 
many  clergymen  being  worse  paid  than  pa- 
viours  ]  "  Impossible"  means  selfish,  niggard- 
liness ;  this  "  impossible"  is  so  glaringly  falla- 
cious, that  it  is  hardly  worth  a  scoff.  The  mi- 
sers, Elwes  and  Dancer,  pronounced  it  impos- 
sible in  their  mortal  sickness  to  purchase  need- 
ful medicaments.  The  people  here  have  so  oft- 
en pronounced  things  to  which  they  are  not  in- 
clined "  impossible"  that  I  fancy  they  believe 
them  to  be  so  at  last !  "  Tell  a  lie,"  says  Burke 
(I  think  it's  Burke),  "  every  day  for  three  weeks, 
and  at  the  three  weeks  end  you  will  regard  it 
as  truth."  The  English  supply  continual  proofs 
that  Burke  spoke  truth.  One  hears  of  men  de- 
claring that  they  will  support  the  Church  with 
heart,  head,  and  hand  ;  perhaps  they  keep  their 
words,  but  it  is  often  found  that  all  three  are 
empty. 

I  have  heard  the  Bishop  of  London  preach, 
and  an  able  preacher  he  is — solemn,  eloquent, 
and  impressive,  with  the  finest  intonation  ;  he 
seldom  preaches  any  but  charity  sermons,  nor, 
indeed,  do  any  of  the  bishops,  at  least  in  Lon- 
don. One  Puseyite  writer  speaks  of  the  suffer- 
ings of  the  bishops — the  nature  of  the  sufferings 
is  not  stated.  I  have  seen  their  reverend  lord- 


LETTERS   FROM 


ships  go  in  their  dark,  handsome  carriages,  their 
servants  in  sober,  becoming  liveries,  to  the 
House  of  Peers.  I  have  read  of  their  being  at 
royal  levees  and  drawing-rooms,  and  at  dinner 
parties  with  peers  and  princes  ;  but  of  their  suf- 
ferings for  the  last  century  and  a  half  in  Eng- 
land I  never  heard  until  now.  It  must  be  that 
they  have  suffered  in  silence,  like  the  Mexican 
emperor  of  old. 

I  have  heard  Mr.  Melville  also,  at  Camber- 
well,  near  London,  a  preacher  of  rare  eloquence, 
both  imaginative  and  profound.  Mr.  Dale,  poet 
and  critic,  as  well  as  preacher,  is  also  an  elo- 
quent man ;  so  is  Dr.  Croly,  at  once  divine, 
critic,  biographer,  historian,  dramatist,  novelist, 
and  poet ;  he  was  forcible  and  bold  in  his  dis- 
course when  I  heard  him,  but  perhaps  too  ve- 
hement in  his  zeal.  Mr.  Mortimer  said  he  was 
"a  Boanerges,  a  son  of  thunder."  I  almost 
thought  he  was  the  thunder  itself.  The  fash- 
ionable preachers  may  not  have  the  tenderness 
of  words  Pope  attributes  to  "  the  soft  dean  ;" 
but  they  are  a  class  I  admire  not — who  can  re- 
gard a  fop  in  piety  ?  The  Socialists,  I  am  told, 
are  numerous  in  London — and  a  minister  of 
state  once  presented  Robert  Owen  to  the  queen. 
Her  majesty  was  then,  or  was  about  to  become, 
a  bride,  and  a  man  who  publicly  pronounces 
marriage  not  a  holy  state,  was  honoured  with  a 
presentation  to  her  !  ,  Are  they  not  an  odd  peo- 
ple 1  The  number  of  the  irreligious  in  England 
is  undoubtedly  many,  and  that  of  the  indifferent, 
very,  very  many — but  then  there's  a  great  feel- 
ing for  the  heathen  !  Ever,  etc. 


LETTER  XXX. 

"Wight"  ».  "White"  Horse.  — English  Journals.— Inde- 
pendent. —  Irish  Reporters  quick-witted.  —  Lord  Canter- 
bury.—Metaphysics  of  Dancing. — Madame  Cento  points 
a  Moral.— Opera  Uproars. —Party  Politics.— Ireland.— A 
Pauper  Funeral.— Income-tax. — Cases  of  peculiar  ilard- 


London, 


1843. 


DEAREST  JULIA — I  was  very  much  amused 
with  your  rural  adventure  near  Trenton  (quite 
like  an  incident  in  one  of  Miss  Sedgwick's  de- 
lightful novels),  and  with  all  your  bewilderments 
as  you  speculated  of  your  whereabout — it  was 
fortunate,  as  you  say^  that  your  good  horses,  like 
Lord  Dacre's,  were 

"Wight, 
And  bare  yon  ably  in  the  flight." 

As  you  were  the  person  who  suggested  the  pleas- 
ant mode  of  extrication — why  did  you  not  quote 
Mrs.  Butler,  in  her  favourite  journal  exclama- 
tion—" Clever  little  me !"  I  was  telling  this 
tiny  romance  to  Emma  Wilderton.  Mr.  Guy- 
was  present,  and  could  not  conceive  why  the 
fact  of  his  lordship's  horse  being  white  was  dwelt 
upon— he  might  have  fled  as  well  or  better  upon 
a  black  horse,  the  colour  being  less  noticeable  ! 
Mr.  Guy  seems  to  become  more  English  every- 
day. 

I  am  not  surprised  at  what  you  tell  me  about 

Major and  the  public  press  ;  indeed,  I  think 

I  am  fast  outliving  the  faculty  of  surprise  at 
anything.  The  notion  somewhat  prevalent  in 
*  merica,  that  a  very  great  portion  of  the  public 
press  of  this  country  is  under  aristocratic  influ-  |  plays  about  Terpsichorean  ankles,  and  the  jeu- 


ence,  not  to  say  restraint,  is  quite  erroneous  ; 
that  there  is  a  connexion  or  a  communication 
between  the  aristocratic  leaders  of  parties  and 
certain  journals  may  be  true  enough,  but  the 
journalists  are  the  obliging  parties.  When  ink, 
either  the  authors  or  printer's,  is  concerned, 
the  aristocracy  of  genius  or  learning  makes  itself 
felt  above  the  mere  aristocracy  of  rank ;  the 
creation  of  a  monarch's  will — and  a  monarch's 
will,  the  poet  notwithstanding — has  ennobled 
"  sots,  and  fools,  and  cowards" — that  is,  in  Eng- 
lish estimation  ;  but  this  may  not  be  truly  said 
of  the  present  day. 

The  newspapers  are  too  much  things  of  the 
public  to  be  thoroughly  aristocratized  ;  besides, 
talent  (I  detest  the  word,  but  remember  no  syn- 
onyme)  must  be  and  is  employed  on  the  leading 
journals,  and  talent  (again  that  word)  is  gener- 
ally independent.  It  is  almost  a  mystery  to  me 
how  the  thing  is  done  ;  a  debate  is  drowsily  pro- 
longedtmtil  the  morning,  and  must  be  the  more 
flat  that  every  member  knows  with  tolerable 
exactitude  what  will  be  the  numbers  on  a  divis- 
ion ;  well,  the  parliamentary  talk  is  as  far  as 
possible  undrowsified,  and  given  to  the  early 
breakfast -tables  of  London,  and  a  clever  sum- 
mary of  it  too,  for  the  use  of  those  who  have 
not  leisure  or  wakefulness  sufficient  to  read  the 
whole  report,  and  perhaps  some  stringent  re- 
marks upon  the  speeches. 

I  am  told  most  of  the  reporters  are  Irishmen, 
who  have  been  liberally  educated,  and  come  to 
London  to  press  their  fortunes  among  the  duller 
and  richer  English  ;  reporters  must  be  quick 
and  quick-witted,  and  therefore  Irish  gentlemen 
are  better  adapted  for  the  task  than  English 
ones. 

"  Plain  calf-skin  binding,  English  wit, 
The  Irish  gild  and  letter  it." 

I  can  excuse  the  high  salary  paid  the  Speaker 
of  the  House  of  Commons  (I  believe  nearly  forty 
thousand  dollars),  for  the  unhappy  gentleman 
must  sit  out  the  debate.  Mr.  Manners  Sutton, 
now  Lord  Canterbury,  was  speaker  many  years, 
and,  it  is  said,  owed  his  ability  of  listening  to 
rigid  abstemiousness  and  the  best  snuff. 

I  am  inclined  to  think  I  can  trace  Irish  handi- 
work in  many  newspaper  critiques,  more^espe- 
cially  those  on  the  ballets  at  the  Opera  House ; 
they  are  imaginative  enough  to  be  the  work  of 
a  modern  French  philosopher,  quite  the  met- 
aphysics of  dancing.  It  is  not  enough  that  the 
dance  be  commended  for  the  flexile  grace  and 
agility  displayed.  O  no  !  there  must  be  details 
of  its  realism  or  idealism — of  its  ethereal  quali- 
ties— its  sentiment,  as  it  develops  tranquil  emo' 
ion,  ecstatic  rapture,  deep-souled  passion,  ol 
deeply-rooted  fear.  Why  only  this?  why  (for 
French  words  are  freely  used),  as  they  tell  of 
the  esprit  or  the  physique  of  some  belle  danseusc, 
do  they  not  inculcate  the  delicate  morale  of  the 
ballet  1  Why  not  expressly  say,  if  not  in  such 
excellent  verse, 

"  Thanks  for  that  lesson,  it  will  teach. 

To  opera-goers  more 
Than  high  philosophy  can  preach, 
And  vainly  presch'd  before  ?" 

Doubtless  Cerito  points  a  moral  with  the  tip 
of  her  slipper,  though  it  may  not  be  generally 
>erceived.  I  expect,  too,  soon  to  hear  (as  this 
;tyle  of  reviewing  progresses)  of  the  wit  that 


AN   AMERICAN   LADY. 


G'J 


de-mot  that  may  be  detected  in  each  turn  of  the 
foot ;  and  when  the  opera-dancers  float  in  mid- 
stage  air,  and  people  hope  that  the  earthly  ties, 
which  are  to  appear  severed,  are  yet  of  the 
strongest,  we  shall  he  told*  of  the  sublimity  of 
the  passion  expressed  ! 

Dance  seems  now  more  prized  than  song  at 
her  majesty's  theatre — the  twirling  toe  more 
valued  than  the  tuneful  throat.  I  am  sure  no 
young  lady  can  see  an  opera-ballet  for  the  first 
time  without  being  unpleasantly  startled,  and 
even  simple  enough  to  consider  what  connois- 
seurs would  call  a  divine  pirouette,  a  womanly 
degradation.  I  am  more  and  more  convinced 
that  the  love  for  the  "  refined"  amusement  of 
the  ballet  is  founded  on  a  coarse  taste,  as  a  hot- 
house plant  rears  its  fragile  head  from  putrid 
leaves. 

I  dare  not  tell  you  Mrs.  Guy's  remarks  on  the 
ballet-dresses  and  gestures,  as  I  one  night  sat 
next  her  in  the  box — she  found  duchesses,  and 
countesses,  and  ladies  of  irreproachable  charac- 
ter were  in  the  house  looking  quietly  on  (use 
lessens  marvel),  or  she  would  have  been  loud 
in  her  Presbyterian  indignation  ;  but  people  of 
rank  were  present,  and  therefore  it  must  be 
right.  The  same  night,  I  remember,  a  gentle- 
man who  holds  some  government  office  wished 
Perrot  would  "  write  a  ballet  on  Queen  Mary's 
escape  from  Lochleven  Castle — Dumilatre  would 
be  so  exquisite."  Poor  Mary  Stuart !  Write 
a  ballet !  What  lady  was  it  who  complained 
of  her  husband's  excessive  fondness  for  theat- 
ricals, and  was  propitiated,  or  to  be  propitiated, 
by  the  reading  of  the  new  pantomime  some  time 
before  it  was  represented  1  Write  a  ballet !  The 
reading  of  a  pantomime  is  less  ridiculous  now 
than  it  was,  for  there  was  spoken  wit  and  hu- 
mour in  Punch's  pantomime  last  Christmas. 

The  subjects  for  opera-ballets  are  often  un- 
earthly ;  spirits  appear,  and  the  spectators,  if 
they  can,  are  to  believe  them  disimbodied  ;  even 
Houris  have  been  summoned  from  those  shock- 
ing Mohammedan  paradises  to  please  the  nobil- 
ity, gentry,  and  money-having  public  of  Protest- 
ant England.  The  extravagance  of  the  ballet 
makes  one  almost  think  operas  rational.  When 
favourite  performers,  vocal  or  pedal,  are  not  en- 
gaged by  the  manager,  or  when  their  high  op- 
eratic mightinesses,  from  illness  or  pettishness, 
or  caprice,  do  not  appear  after  announcement 
in  the  advertisements  of  the  day,  the  English 
aristocracy  are  well  pleased,  for  they  can  have 
the  excitement  of  a  pleasant,  safe,  and  comfort- 
able uproar.  Once  it  appears  a  prince  of  the 
blood  jumped  along  with  others  from  a  box  on 
to  the  stage,  royally  indignant  at  some  imputed 
misrule  on  the  part  of  the  despot  manager ! 
They  are  certainly  the  oddest  people  in  Christ- 
endom. Mr.  said,  in  his  solemn  way, 

"  Assuredly  the  opera  is  far  superior  to  the 
amusements  of  ancient  Rome  in  her  palmiest 
days."  He  could  only  mean  the  gladiator  and 
wild-beast  fights  :  high  praise — it  is  ! 

I  do  not  give  you  any  account  of  the  party 
politics  advocated  by  the  newspapers  I  have 
been  writing  about,  and  for  a  sufficing  reason — 
I  cannot.  It  is  so  difficult  to  understand  the 
state  of  parties  here,  and  what  are  the  points 
or  the  substances  on  which  they  differ — Tories, 
Conservatives,  Whigs,  Whig-Radicals,  Chart- 
ists, Agricultural,  Free  Trade,  High  Church, 


Higher  Church,  Low  Church,  Lower  Church, 
Dissenting,  and  I  know  not  what. 

I  am  very  reluctant  now  to  give  any  opinion, 
be  it  ever  so  general,  on  politics  ;  for  some 
time  ago,  when  the  distresses  of  the  sister  island 
were  the  topic,  I  ventured  a  remark  that  surely 
Ireland  would  be  benefited  if  the  government 
devoted  funds  to  drain  the  bogs,  and  would  em- 
ploy the  peasantry  in  useful  national  works. 
My  opinion  was  quietly  smiled  down,  as  if  I  had 
recommended  alchymy,  or  something  very  im- 
possible. Why  it  should  be  held  "  impossible" 
I  do  not  know.  Bogs  have  been  drained  and 
peasants  employed  before  now,  and  if  the  gov- 
ernment have  no  surplus  revenue,  the  country 
possesses  money  unto  plethora,  unto  inflamma- 
tion, and  would  gladly  lend  it  to  the  govern- 
ment for  this  or  any  purpose,  at  a  very  trifling 
interest ;  the  English  administration  can  never 
want  funds ;  besides,  Parliament  gave  twenty 
million  pounds  to  buy  the  emancipation  of  the 
negroes,  and  seventy  thousand  to  build  more 
stabling  at  Windsor,  and  surely  the  Irish  have 
as  strong  a  claim  as  distant  slaves  or  pampered 
horses.  It  seems  to  me  little  reputable  that 
good  on  a  large  scale,  where  money  and  trouble 
are  requisite,  is  always  called  "  impossible." 
Bonaparte  said  he  did  not  recognise  the  word, 
it  was  bad  French — it  is  too  genuine  English. 

Yesterday  I  gave  Kathleen  leave  to  attend 
the  funeral  of  some  poor  old  woman  who  died  in 
the  workhouse,  and  who,  in  her  better  days, 
Kathleen  said,  "  was  good  to  her  brother  that's 
gone — the  heavens  be  their  bed."  On  her  re- 
turn— and  she  only  purposed,  uninvited,  to  fol- 
low the  body  to  the  churhyard  (a  mark  of  re- 
spect)— she  was  in  high  indignation.  The  poor- 
er Irish  think  much  of  a  proper  burial ;  a  kindly 
feeling,  though  they  may  carry  it  too  far — by  no 
means  the  fault  of  the  English  in  their  kind- 
nesses. 

"  And  sbure,  ma'am,  there'll  be  a  judgment 
on  this  people  yet,  if  the  earthquake  did  miss, 
and  showed  itself  in  the  Indies,  they  say.  And 
I  thought  there  would  be  a  dacent  buryin'  for 
Mrs.  Brady,  that  was  never  a  disgrace  to  any 
one,  and  was  put  into  the  workhouse  in  spite  of 
the  teeth  of  her,  by  the  neighbours  as  wouldn't 
let  her  die  in  pace  in  her  own  bit  of  a  room, 
and  pined  away,  the  cratur,  for  sorrow  resave 
the  face  she  knew  in  the  could  big  poorhouse, 
and  the  very  kindness  that's  in  it  doesn't  seem 
kindness.  Well,  ma'am — begging  pardon  for 
makin'  so  bould — there  wasn't  a  cratur  at  the 
buryin'— not  a  single  soul  to  say  God  rest  her, 
now  she's  dead ;  and  four  weak  pauper  mea 
carried  the  coffin,  that  isn't  like  a  coffin,  but 
rough  boards  nailed  together,  and  looks  just  as 
if  they  were  blackened  by  the  blacking-brush 
when  it's  dry  and  dusty,  and  looks,  too,  as  if  it 
would  hardly  hold  together,  and  if  the  body  had 
come  out !  her  that  was  a  kind  woman  in  her 
day  !  God  melt  their  hard  hearts  that  puts  a 
Christian  in  the  ground  as  if  worms  was  to  be 
considered  before  a  fellovv-cratur  ;  and  they  run 
with  it,  ma'am,  run  as  if  it  wasn't  to  the  church- 
yard, and  the  earth  that  was  shovelled  up  wasn't 
like  earth,  but  ashes — and  she  was  buried  in  a 
corner  where  paupers  is,  as  if  the  gentlefolk 
would  be  infected  in  their  graves  if  they  was 
near  the  poor.  Blessed  hour  !  ma'am,  there's 
kind  people  in  England,  but  they  don't  know 


70 


LETTERS   FROM 


•what  belongs  to  being  kind  to  the  poor  when  I  the  Boundary  Question  was  settled  at  last,  for 
they  bury  them  like  dogs  they're  glad  to  get  rid    it  must  have  been  so  unpleasant  when  travelling 


I  think— for  I  never  refer  back  in  a  letter— I 
was  saying  something  about  funds  or  revenue  ; 
the  produce  of  the  low  income-tax  was  enor- 
mous, but  the  English  murmured  much.  I 
heard  from  more  quarters  than  one  that  many 
of  the  rich  saved  the  whole  or  part  of  their  in- 
come-tax by  curtailing  their  expenditure,  not  by 


to  find  your  coachman  trespassing  on  a  wrong 
or  disputed  road,  and  having  to  turn  back,  per- 
haps— so  trying  to  the  horses  !"  And  the  good 


lady  would  find  it  trying  enough  to  her  horses 
were  they  on  the  frontiers  of  Maine  ! 

Even  I  feel  quite  assured  on  my  Boundary 
knosvledge  in  London,  though  in  New- York  I 
should  not  venture  a  remark  on  the  subject,  lest 


abandoning  any  selfish  enjoyment — they  can  be  j  I  should  betray  ignorance  (if  such  betrayal  were 
accused  of  no  such  sacrifice — but  by  lowering  treason,  what  a  huge  traitor  were  England), 
the  wages  of  their  labourers,  or  making  twenty  Many  of  the  English  are  so  apt  to  look  upon  this 


do  work  once  accounted  sufficient  for  thir- 
ty, or  similar  expedients;  all  very  ingenious, 
and  as  only  the  poor  suffer,  much  to  be  appro- 
ved. Think  of  some  of  the  millions  of  the  in- 
come-tax being  thus  wrung  from  the  industrious 
classes  !  I  heard  of  one  gentleman  who  made 
it  a  rule  yearly  to  lay  by  £8000  at  least,  inde- 
pendently of  the  interest  accruing  on  his  accu- 
mulations ;  of  course  he  could  not  break  through 
a  rule,  the  £8000  must  be  put  aside,  but  then  the 


Boundary  dispute  as  upon  a  debateable  line  (de- 
bateable  enough  it  has  been,  to  be  sure)  between 
two  of  their  own  counties  or  parishes  ;  they  are 
so  generally  a  people  who  travel  not  out  of  them- 
selves, and  judge  all  matters  by  their  precon- 
ceived notions  of  familiar  things.  If  the  terri- 
tory west  of  the  Rocky  Mountains  be  mentioned, 
they  seem  to  have  a  vague  notion  of  a  transat- 
lantic Wales.  Not  that  the  many  oracles  of 
this  uninformed,  unlettered  class  will  scruple 


income-tax  must  be  paid — his  expenditure  would   judgment  upon  American  questions — far  from 
bear  no  farther  reduction,  his  establishment,    it,  they  will  even  declare  they  can  prove  their 


like  himself,  being  of  a  very  spare  habit,  so  his 
savings  fell  £157  short  of  the  £8000,  and  he  was 
for  weeks  in  profound  melancholy,  and  how  pro- 
foundly to  be  pitied. 

Another  case  I  heard  of.  A  miserly — I  mean 
a  "respectable" — merchant  had  an  immense 
sum  in  the  English  funds,  to  which  he  regularly 
added  the  dividends.  The  income-tax  astound- 
ed him  —  it  came  upon  him  as  deep  snow 
would  come  in  August,  unlocked  for,  as  unwel- 
come ;  but  there  was  no  escape.  This  tax  is  a 
perfect  rattlesnake  for  securing  its  prey,  but 
without  any  powers  of  fascination.  The  fund- 
holder  in  question  was  so  downcast  that  his 
housekeeper — he  was  a  bachelor — sent  for  his 
physician ;  and  Dr.  C.  told  me,  mentioning,  of 
course,  no  names,  that  he  verily  believed  this 
lord  of  useless  thousands  would  have  shot  him- 


opinions  upon  Yankee  topics  to  be  correct — this 
is  rather  like  what  engravers  call  "  a  proof  be- 
fore letters .-" 

"  They'll  sit  by  the  fire  and  presume  to  know 
What's  done  i'  the  Capitol." 

Ignorance  is  presumptuous,  the  reason,  I  sup- 
pose, why  so  very  many  in  England  liberally 
force  opinion  and  advice  upon  others  ;  this  may 
l)e  intolerably  wearisome  to  the  sufferers,  but  I 
am  glad  to  find  such  persons  liberal  in  anything:. 
Perhaps,  dear  love,  I  weary  your  patience  with 
these  constant  recurrences  to  English  igno- 
rance ;  but  one  can  no  more  help  noticing  it 
than  a  person  bent  on  a  pleasant  pedestrian 
excursion  can  avoid  being  watchful  of  the 
weather. 

I  declined  an  invitation  to  accompany  a  party 
to  Epsom  Races,  on  what  is  called  the  Derby- 
day.  I  expected  to  be  busy  with  packages,  and 


self  in  pure  horror  at  the  tax,  but  he  was  deter- 
red by  the  cost  of  pistol  and  ball.    Great  was  I  more  interested  in  my  own  dark  silk  gowns  than 
Diana  of  the  Ephesians,  but  greater  is  Mammon    in  the  jockey's  light  silk  jackets  ;  besides,  I  was 
of  the  English.          ,  Ever,  etc.       there  last  year,  and  may  say  of  it  as  Foote  said 

of  a  draught  of  pure  spring  water,  "  It's  all  very 
well — for  once."  Last  year  (I  was  very  earnest 
in  sight-seeing  then)  I  accompanied  Mr.  and 

LE  T  Mrs.  Griffiths  and  a  friend  of  theirs,  a  stout  gen- 

tleman whose  name  I  forget,  a  jocose,  free  per- 
son, and  M.P.  withal. 
We  went  gallantly  in  a  carriage  and  four  ;  the 


Boundary  Question. — Advantages  of  Settlement. — A  Proof 
before  Letters.— Epsom  and  the  Derby-day.— Vehicular 
Chain.— The  Race-ground.— The  Race.— Race-horses.— 
The  Turf.  —  Bays  and  Greys.  —  Return.  —  Vulgarism.  — 
Police. — Magazines  and  Reviews. 


London, 


1843. 


DEAREST  JDLIA — Of  course  I  have  frequently 
heard  the  Boundary  Question  spoken  about ;  but 
in  good  sooth  the  people  here  care  little  about  it, 
those  excepted  who  are  professed  politicans,  and 
with  or  without  coffee — 

"  See  through  all  things  with  their  half-shut  eyes  ;" 

their  eyes,  indeed,  might  be  wholly  shut  for  any 
clearness  in  their  views.  The  indifference 
about  this  question  is  parallel  with  the  igno- 
rance— their  boundaries  are  the  same.  One  old 
lady,  who  is  prouder  of  her  horses  than  of  her 
wealth,  her  high  birth,  her  fair  daughters,  or 
her  jewels  (indeed,  her  horses,  matchless  though 


distance  is  some  twenty  miles.  How  can  I 
convey  to  your  American  mind  a  notion  of  what 
I  saw  1  You  have  gazed  on  crowds  in  Broad- 
way— you  have  heard  of  Roman  triumphs — you 
have  noted — but  what  avails  it  \  You  can  form 
no  adequate  notion  of  the  procession  to  Epsom  on 
the  Derby-day.  Such  leagues  of  carriages,  one 
closely  following  another  as  if  linked  by  design 
to  form  a  curious  vehicular  chain,  and  one  in  its 
linked  irregularity  so  long  drawn  out.  Every 
possible  and  impossible  carriage  was  there,  inclu- 
ding numerous  spring- wagons,  called  spring- 
vans,  or,  to  speak  a-/a-cockney,  wans  (they  being 
generally  a  bright  yellow),  filled  with  the  lower 
orders,  journey  men-mechanics  with  their  wives 
or  swec'thearts  dressed  in  their  holyday  garbs  ; 

well  matched,  are  the  immediate  jewels  of  lier  |  the  seats  being  rented  for  the  day  at  so  much- 
soul),  expressed  to  me  great  satisfaction  "that  '  about  a  dollar,  I  believe.     Besides  these  were 


AN   AMERICAN   LADY. 


equestrians  and  pedestrians,  I  was  about   to  j  sounding  underneath  their  rapid  tread  as  if  it 


write/ •loimr.n,  but  I  ought  to  reserve  that  wo; 
for  the  few  thousands  who  sat  behind  carriages 
And  this  on  every  road  to  Epsom  :  all  Middlese: 
seemed  migrating  to  these  Surrey  Downs. 

As  we  neared  any  turnpike-gate  on  our  tard 
progress,  there  was  a  stop,  and  a  long  one  ;  th 
official,  whom  the  soul  of  the  elder  Weller  so  ab 
horred ;  the  pikeman — a  legalized  extortione 
— a  paid  eremite,  and  much  more  an  eremit 
since  railways  usurped  the  rights  of  royal  roads 
those  revolutionary — but  what  am  I  scribbling 
I  was  about  to  say  that  the  pikeman  with  hi 
.  attendant  satellites,  as  well  as  the  auxiliar; 
policemen,  were  hoarse  with  wrangling  hefon 
we  reached  them.  I  suppose  they  would  bi 
voiceless  before  night.  It  the  discussion  abou 
the  toll  was  long,  loud  in  proportion  was  the 
abuse  in  the  immediate  rear.  The  day  was 
sultry,  and  the  dust  a  series  of  long  earthy 
clouds  ;  it  adhered  to  perspiring  faces,  forming 
a  muddy  mask ;  a  Persian  might  have  exulted 
that  his  enemy  was  on  the  road  to  Epsom  that 

•  day,  he  ate  dirt  so  literally  and  plenteously. 

We  reached  the  race-ground  (a  spacious  plain 
at  last,  and  our  carriage  was  favourably  enough 
fixed  to  see  the  race  and  the  crowd  too;  the 
world  could  show  nothing  equal ;  besides  the 
forests  of  carriages,  were  foot- people  as  dense 
as  insects  in  an  ant-hill,  and  apparently  as  busy, 
if  not  so  well  employed,  and  troops  of  cavalry, 

•  and  a  townlet  of  booths  and  stalls  to  vend  re- 
freshments; although  I  saw  hampers  of  provis- 
ions attached  to  carriages,  as  if  provender  had 

•been  laid  in  for  a  short  campaign.  Dugald 
Dalgetty's  spirit  had  felt  light  within  him  to 
witness  so  provident  a  class  ;  the  popping  of 
Champagne  corks,  which  Mrs.  Trollope  heard 
from  English  visiters  in  one  of  the  churches  at 
Home  during  a  festival(!) — another  instance  of 

•  her  amazing  powers  of  observation — was  really 
.  and  truly  frequent  at  Epsom  ;  sherry,  too,  seem- 
ed as  abundant  as  if  it  were  the  indigenous  pro- 

-duction  of  this  vineless  island  (some  of  it  is, 
they  say),  and  all  betokened  hilarity. 

Then  there  were  gaming-booths,  and  tables, 
and  stools  of  all  kinds,  and  hawkers  vending 

•  everything,  especially  large  editions  of  bills  of 
the  faces,  and  gipsy-women  with  their  bronzed 
faces  and  bold  black  eyes,  offering  to  tell  for- 

•  tunes.     I  was  glad  to  see  real  gipsies.     The 
Grand  Stand,  a  lofty,  well-balconied  building, 
•was  filled  with  ladies  and  gentlemen,  and  all 
this  for  whatl     For  mere  amusement,  to  see  a 
few  horses  gallop  a  couple  of  miles !     I  had 

•heard  and  read  much  of  English  speeches,  and 
pamphlets  suggestive  of  hard  plans  to  save  a 
farthing  in  the  pound  in  poors-rates,  and  griev- 

;ous  want  of  schools  from  want  of  funds,  of 
churches  unendowed,  ministers  unpaid,  crime 

-unmitigated,  hunger  unappeased ;  and  I  looked 
round  and  told  the  Honourable  M.P.  such  ac- 
count must  be  an  exaggeration,  nay,  an  impos- 

.  sibility  ;  he  laughed  as  he  avouched  the  truth — 
the  reality  of  the  poverty  and  the  ignorance. 

Thousands,  I  believe  I  may  say  hundreds  of 
thousands,  of  wagered  pounds  depended  upon 
the  result  of  this  Derby  race  ;  and  the  course 
along  which  the  horses  run  was  duly  cleared 
of  its  crowd,  and  we  soon  saw  some  twenty 

steeds,  more  or  less,  rush  past,  their  riders  in  caps 
and  jackets  of  different  colours,  and  the  ground 


were  hollow;  and  then  was  a  shout,  and  the 
thousanded  race  was  over. 

Carrier-pigeons  were  soon  released,  and  flew 
joyously  into  the  air,  describing  brief  circles  as 
if  they  loitered  a  few  moments  to  look  do~vn 
upon  the  scene,  and,  after  the  fashion  of  Cow- 
per's  jackdaw,  moralize  upon 

"  The  bustle  and  the  raree-show, 
That  occupied  mankind  below  ;" 

and  then  away  they  darted  to  convey  to  all 
parts  the  important  news  of  who  won  the  Der- 
by. I  may  well  call  it  the  thousanded  race,  for 
it  seems  the  stakes  alone,  which  must  be  paid 
upon  pain  of  exile  from  the  racing  fraternity, 
amounted  to  between  four  and  five  thousand 
pounds. 

Soon  after  tlie  race  was  over,  Mr.  Philly  (you 
remember  his  being  in  New- York)  came  to  tell 
us  Attila,  or  Alaric,  I  forget,  had  won  :  as  I  had 
never  heard  any  of  the  horses'  names  before,  I 
cannot  say  I  felt  much  interest  in  the  announce- 
ment. Great  importance  is  attached  to  horse- 
'acing  by  the  English ;  the  wagers  on  the  re- 
sult of  the  great  races,  or,  as  they  are  called, 
'  the  odds,"  are  as  regularly  quoted  as  the  price 
of  stocks.  If  a  race-horse,  from  whose  spefed 
nuch  is  anticipated,  be  ill,  there  are -not  bul- 
etins,  certainly — those  seem  confined  to  royalty, 
fficial  rank,  and-opera  singers — but  announce- 
ments of  the  important  fact ;  a  race-horse 
;oughs  in  Newmarket,  or  in  Richmond  or  Mal- 
on  in  the  North,  the  places  where  these  treas- 
ured quadrupeds  are  boarded,  lodged,  and  exer- 
'sed,  or,  technically,  trained,  and  the  sound 
hereof  reaches  London  ! 

Many  make  it  their  profession  to  bet  at  horse- 

ces — even  some  who  place  "  Lord"  or  "  Hon- 
orable" before  their  names.  These  professional 
•entlemen  are  called  blacklegs,  or,  more  briefly, 
egs;  and,  along  with  the  jockeys,  always  little 
men,  that  they  may  not  weigh  too  heavily,  have 
vhat  is  called  the  "  knowing  look" — the  peculiar 
tyle  of  physiognomy  is  not  uncommon  in  Amer- 
ca  :  some  of  these  "  legs"  and  jockeys  realize 
arge  fortunes.  You  wonder  how  I  know  all 

s.  Mr.  Philly  is  an  ardent  horse-racer,  and 
layed  the  turf  historian  to  me  ;  horse-racing  is 
ailed  "  the  turf,"  from  the  greenswards  of  the 
ace-grounds,  I  fancy.  Mr.  Philly  always  re- 
ninds  me  of  an  actor  off  the  stage,  he  is  so  very 
lose  shorn  and  whiskerless. 

I  have  lately  read  somewhere  that  Dr.  Henry, 
ic  historian,  declared  that  few  things  were 
lore  permanent  and  less  affected  by  change 
\annational  diversions.  The  diversion  of  horse- 
acing  seems  to  show  he  was  right ;  it  is  a  very 
~nglish  amusement,  and  apparently  a  very  per- 
nanent  one.  I  have  heard  Americans  cen- 
ure  it  freely  enough,  but  I  am  not  disposed 

join  in  the  censure ;  it  is  a  manly,  healthful 
musement,  carried  on  in  the  open  air  and  the 
road  daylight,  and  can  be  enjoyed  by  the  poor 
s  well  as  the  rich,  which  can  be  said  of  few 
;her  amusements  in  this  country  ;  it  has  given 
ngland  the  noblest  breed  of  horses  in  the 
•orld,  and  that  surely  is  a  national  benefit. 
propos  des  bottes,  ou  des  betes,  I  will  tell  you  a 
ale  of  a  wealthy  man  of  horses — he  was  dining 

t  the  table  of  the  Earl  of ,  and  there  was 

ention  of  a  once  very  famous  gentleman. 
Ah,"  said  a  guest,  "  he  seems  almost  forgot- 


LETTERS   FROM 


ten  now ;  his  bays  have  faded."  "  Bays !"  ex- 
claimed the  horse-loving  esquire :  "he  never 
kept  any  ;  drove  grays,  my  lord,  always." 

But,  it  may  be  said,  think  of  the  untaught, 
unclad,  unfed  poor,  and  then  justify  the  sums 
squandered  on  race-horses.  More  shame  to  the 
miserly  selfishness  of  the  rich  English,  who,  if 
they  would,  could  so  easily  deny  ignorance  and 
famine  to  the  poor  (I  mean  as  a  rule),  and  have 
their  horse-races  too— yes,  indeed,  lady  fair, 
were  they  ten  times  as  costly. 

We  were  longer  in  returning  from  Epsom  to 


LETTER  XXXII. 


Suicides.  — Education.  — Stables  and  Schools.  —  Bishop  of 
Manchester.— Strange  Puzzlement.— Indians.—  Ingenuity 
in  Ignorance. — Mr.  Alison.— Four  Frigates  against  two 
thousand  Ships.— American  Boastfulness. —English  In- 
quiries. 

London, ,  1843. 

DEAREST  JULIA — A  custom,  I  ought  rather  to 
say  a  fashion,  seems  becoming  popular  in  tne 
city  of  London,  I  mean  that  of  punishing  per- 
sons who  have  been  frustrated  in  their  fright- 
ful attempts  at  suicide.  If  the  unhappy  wretch. 


London  than  going  to  Epsom.  My  heart  bled  (  had  accomplished  self-murder,  and  was  known, 
to  see  the  poor  jaded  horses  in  many  overladen  '  the  coroner's  jury  would  in  all  probability  have 
vehicles;  and,  indeed,  some  lay  dead  by  the  road-  j  returned  a  verdict  of  "  insanity."  If  accident 
side.  During  the  frequent  halts  or  stoppages,  j  or  courageous  benevolence  has  preserved  a  life, 
on  our  return,  there  was  much  a4tercation  among  why  should  the  involuntary  surviver  be  dealt 
coachmen  and  others.  It  was  Carried  on  in  a  j  with  as  if  his  sanity  was  unquestionable!  The 
language  I  did  not  understand,  but  I  was  told'  jury's  "insanity'1  in  the  one  case  is  undoubt- 
it  was  vulgarly  styled  chaffing — an  appropriate  edly  humane — the  alderman's  "  sanity"  in  the 
term.  Despicable  as  chaff  to  the  rich  grain  is  other  is  a  doubtful  measure.  This  end,  undeni- 
this  popular  phraseology  to  genuine  English,  ably,  i*  promoted :  a  person  meditating  suicide 
Very  many  were  the  inquiries  if  people's  moth-  knows  he  will  be  punished,  and  worse  still,  per- 
ers  were  cognisant  of  their  children's  visits  to  j  haps,  to  his  morbid  state  of  mind,  exposed,  if  he 
the  races.  Maternal  solicitude  is  an  established  do  not  succeed  (how  sad  to  call  such  a  thing 
joke  in  England ;  they  have  overcome  vulgar  I  success'),  and  he  will  therefore  be  so  resolute 


prejudices.  Nearly  as  frequently  were  the,  I 
thought  not  altogether  impertinent,  queries  of 
"  How  long  have  you  been  out  of  an  asylum !" 
All  parties  are  exposed  to  the  hearing  of  this 
English  wit,  for  the  carriage-line  must  not  be 
deviated  from.  Had  this  vulgar  nonsense  been 
heard  in  America,  how  it  would  have  shocked 
the  delicate  ears  of  British  travellers !  There 
•was  so  little  of  it  in  the  morning,  and  so  much 
in  the  evening,  that  I  suppose  the  good  cheer  at 
Epsom  had  called  the  full  spirit  of  raillery  forth. 


and  wary  in  his  procedure  that  he  need  fear  no 
interruption. 

"  Felo-de-se"  is  sometimes  the  verdict  upon 
an  inquest ;  but  I  believe  there  never  was 
any  verdict  but  "  insanity"  returned  when  the 
wretched  suicide  boasted  title  or  wealth.  The 
watermen  in  the  Thames  occasionally  find  dead 
bodies  floating,  and  have  the  humanity  to  con- 
vey them  on  shore  for  sepulture  ;  the  waterman 
has  then,  perhaps,  to  attend*  a  police  office  to 
give  information  of  the  circumstance,  and  most 


All  the  taverns  along  the  road  seemed  crowd-  j  assuredly  must  attend  before  a  coroner's  jury  to 
,  and  no  doubt  the  excise  was  "  fatten'd  with  t  give  evidence  :  much  of  his  time  is  thus  con- 
the  rich  result."   We  stopped  to  give  the  horses    sumed,  much  trouble   is  occasioned  him,  and 
some  water  five  or  six  miles  from  London,' and  I  what  is  his  reward  1    Not  a  farthing !    His  fam- 
a  crowd  was   collected,  bent   upon   a  boxing  j  ily  may  be  wanting  bread  while  he  is  thus  idle 


match,  and  swearing  disdain  of  the  police 
Three  policemen  were  seen  advancing  rapidly 
and  confidently,  and  the  crowd,  as  Stecle  said 
of  the  French  under  Marshal  Boufflers,  "  ran 
away  from  'em  as  bold  as  lions."  Although  I 
had  an  interview  with  an  ungracious  officer  of 
police,  I  believe,  as  a  body,  they  are  useful,  civil, 
and  quiet. 

Horse-racing,  along  with  other  sports,  no 
doubt,  has  its  peculiar  literature  ;  it  has  also 
its  code  of  laws — a  club  called  a  Jockey  Club 
being  its  parliament.  I  have  never  read  any  of 
the  sporting  magazines  or  reviews,  or  whatever 
they  are,  but  they  have  a  nice  look  with  them. 
By-the-by,  dear  Julia,  are  you  more  censorious 
than  you  were,  more  lago-ish  (don't  frown,  but 
indeed  you  can't) — more  "  nothing  unless  criti- 
cal," that  you  say  of  B.'s  M (quite  an  oracle 

here),  "  It  always  has  two  or  three  good  articles, 
and  the  rest  may  be  clever,  only  they  are  un- 
readable!" I  am  always  right  glad  to  get  the 
North  American  and  Democratic  Reviews<«frd 
others,  though  I  am  little  interested  in  politics. 
The  periodical  literature  of  America  is  far  too 
little  appreciated  in  England.  It  were  absurd  to 
praise  to  you  the  Edinburgh  or  Quarterly  Re- 
views here.  "  The  last  Quarterly,"  or  "  the  last 
Edinburgh,"  has  ever  a  pleasant  sound  ;  they 
may  be  called  joint  presidents  of  the  republic  of 
letters.  Ever,  etc. 


upon  compulsion,  but  that  is  his  concern.  What 
right  had  he  to  be  finding  the  body  of  some  per- 
son unknown,  and  for  which  no  reward  had  been 
offered,  and  so  putting  the  parish  to  the  cost  of 
the  blackish  boards,  and  fees,  constituting  a 
parish  funeral  ? 

That  suicides  are  so  much  more  frequent  in 
London,  the  population  being  fully  considered, 
than  in  American  cities,  is  easily  accounted  for  : 
their  betters  (so  called)  choose  the  poor  here  to 
be  untaught  and  reckless,  and  so  they  rush  to 
death  to  escape  the  pressure  of  want  or  sorrow. 
I  wonder  the  wealthy  do  not  choose  the  poor  to 
be  educated  ;  surely  they  would  be  more  orderly 
and  governable ;  at  any  rate,  not  so  liable  to  be 
acted  upon  by  designing  demagogues,  and  the 
repose  of  the  rich  would  not  be  so  disturbed  by 
their  clamours,  while  the  sum  of  poverty  would 
be  less,  and  suicides  fewer. 

I  can  hardly  believe  that  even  parliamentary 
reports  tell  true  of  the  ignorance  of  England, 
when  I  know  that  Connecticut  alone  has  a  per- 
manent school  fund  of  nearly  two  million  and  a 
half  of  dollars  ;  while  it  was  found  at  the  last 
census  there  were  little  more  than  five  hundred 
adults  in  that  small  state  who  had  not  been 
taught  to  read  and  write,  and  they  were  chiefly 
foreigners,  the  population  being  rather  more 
than  three  hundred  thousand.  New-York,  with 
its  fund  of  more  than  ten  millions  of  dollars  for 


AN  AMERICAN  LADY. 


73 


educational  purposes— but  why  dwell  upon  the 
truism,  how  well  the  scholastic  culture  of 
American  citizens  is  cared  for  as  a  general 
rule?  And  what  is  accorded  for  the  purpose 
by  the  wisdom  of  the  British  Parliament  ]  An 
accumulation  of— talk,  and  a  small  sum  of 
money,  so  small  a  sum  as  £30,000  ($150,000), 
for  the  nation,  mind  !  not  for  one  of  the  coun- 
ties ;  and  even  that  was  refused  last  session  or 
the  session  before.  One  anxious  to  find  fault 
might  say  it  was  illustrative  of  English  legisla- 
tion that  the  bills  granting  £70,000  for  new  sta- 
bling at  Windsor  and  this  mite  for  education 
were  sent  up  on  the  same  night  in  the  House  of 
Commons  ;  the  stables  were  voted,  the  schools 
were  not !  the  people  could  wait,  it  appeared ; 
not  so  the  horses.  I  would  not  have  you  think 
that  I  ever  speak  of  the  queen  personally  with 
any  feelings  but  those  of  respect  and  admira- 
tion. I  think  she  is  more  popular  than  has 
been  any  predecessor  of  her  family,  and  I  am 
sure  she  deserves  to  be  so. 

I  listened  in  quiet  and  much  amused  silence 
to  a  conversatoin  at  an  evening  party  last  night. 
Two  of  the  gentlemen  conversing  were  clergy- 
men, and  the  subject  a  recent  debate  in  the 
House  of  Lords.  Their  lordships  admitted  that 
a  new  bishopric  was  greatly  needed  at  Man- 
chester, and  funds  were'  needed  also  ;  it  is  pro- 
posed, therefore,  to  take  one  of  the  bishoprics 
•from  Wales  and  devote  the  income  to  maintain 
the  Bishop  of  Manchester.  But  then  a  Man- 
chester episcopacy  is  needed  now,  and  the 
Welsh  see  cannot  be  appropriated  during  the 
lifetime  of  the  present  bishop.  No  doubt  a 
bishop  of  Manchester  would  be  appointed  to- 
morrow if  the  necessary  funds  were  in  hand, 
but  how  to  raise  them  1  Really  one's  gravity 
gives  way.  How  to  raise  them  ! 

Had  noble  lords  or  honourable  gentlemen  ask- 
ed the  poor  Roman  Catholics  of  Ireland,  or  the 
Protestant  Episcopalians  of  America,  informa- 
tion would  not  have  been  churlishly  withheld. 
Fancy  the  peers  of  England,  all  churchmen  ex- 
cept some  thirty,  perhaps  (and  the  peers  are  only 
a  few  of  the  wealthy),  gravely  admitting  an  im- 
portant addition  was  necessary  to  the  ministry 
of  their  Church,  and  as  gravely  (for  it  was  all 
in  perfect  gravity)  debating  how  the  new  prel- 
ate should  be  paid !  Why,  my  lords,  do  you 
and  your  affluent  brethren  of  the  Church  provide 
a  fund  to  endow  the  see,  and  there's  an  end. 
The  like  has  been  done  by  laborious  poverty, 
surely  it  must  be  easy  to  powerful  wealth  ; 
there  is  precedent  for  it — ample  precedent — 
most  favourite  precedent,  as  well  as  the  best 
authority  (to  say  nothing  of  Scripture),  to  sanc- 
tion it ;  the  most  eloquent  of  English  philoso- 
phers has  said,  "  Riches  are  for  spending,  and 
spending  for  honour  and  good  actions."  This, 
too,  I  suppose,  would  be  declared  "  impossi- 
ble"— truly,  no  doubt ;  only  every  one  must 
know  it  might  easily  be  done — nay,  has  been 
done. 

Not  a  bishop  was  heard  to  say,  "  My  lords, 
the  Church  of  which  you  are  members,  and 
through  whose  teaching  and  instrumentality 
you  hope  for  salvation,  should  be  made  more 
widely  useful,  that  more  sheep  may  be  called 
into  her  sacred  fold.  A  bishop  is  indispensable 
in  the  populous  town  of  Manchester.  Provi- 
dence has  blessed  you  with  most  ample  means  ; 


it  is  the  duty  of  your  lordships  not  so  much  to 
debate  of  this  thing  as  to  do  it." 

Both  the  clergymen  I  mentioned  were  pious 
and  excellent  men — the  accounts  we  hear  at 
home  of  fox-hunting  arid  wine-bibbing  parsons 
here  are  mightily  exaggerated— and  yet  it  never 
occurred  to  either  of  them  that  churchmen, 
from  the  fulness  of  their  purses,  should  pro- 
mote the  well-being  of  their  church  !  The 
British  clergy,  from  curate  to  archbishop,  pious 
as  they  are,  seem  so  accustomed  to  this  utter 
selfishness,  that  it  actually  passes  with  them 
as  a  matter  of  course,  and  uncensured  !  The 
"  impossible"  appears  to  be  admitted,  even  while 
it  is  so  undeniable  that  the  "unwilling"  only 
exists.  I  do  believe  that,  plain  and  obvious  as 
was  the  duty  of  the  bishops,  not  one  of  them, 
when  he  reached  his  home  would  feel  that  he 
had  neglected  such  duty  !  Perhaps  some  stick- 
ler for  precedent  might  say,  "  O,  the  language 
put  in  a  bishop's  mouth  is  unparliamentary." 
Possibly  it  is  so — it  is  only  Christian  and  epis- 
copal, and  might  be  uttered  on  fifty  public  occa- 
sions, or  appear  in  print,  if  it  be  not  the  proper 
style  for  a  legislative  assembly. 

For  the  wealthy  churchmen  of  England  to 
profess  themselves  puzzled  how  to  pay  what 
they  consider  an  indispensable  ministry,  is  just 
as  if  a  man  should  jingle  a  number  of  sover- 
eigns in  his  pocket,  for  which  he  had  no  use, 
and  gravely  debate  within  himself  how  he  could 
procure  a  book  he  felt  he  needed,  the  cost  of 
which  was  a  shilling.  All  this  sad  selfishness 
and  blindness  sounds  incredible,  but  it  is  liter- 
ally true. 

Another  difficulty  presented  itself  about  this 
hapless  bishopric — it  was  considered  by  some 
objectionable  to  add  another  occupant  to  the 
right  reverend  bench  in  the  House  of  Lords ! 
If  a  bishop  be  really  requisite  in  Manchester, 
and  if  he  cannot  efficiently  perform  the  duties 
of  his  diocess  unless  he  be  a  peer  of  Parlia- 
ment, where  can  be  the  difficulty  1  The  peers 
of  England  may  be  giants  in  the  path  of 
legislation,  but  they  do  stumble  over  strange 
straws. 

I  told  you  before  how  ignorant  were  very 
many  of  the  English  about  America.  Mr.  Wil- 
derton  and  his  family,  confident  in  my  Enghsh- 
sm,  sometimes  sportively  turn  the  conversa- 
tion to  Yankee  topics  when  any  one  is  present 
who  does  not  know  I  am  a  native  of  America. 
The  other  day  a  young  lady,  with  voice  and 
complexion  alike  raised,  told  us  how  she  had 
been  reading  some  missionary  tracts,  and  thea 
exclaimed  against  the  cruelties  practised  by 
the  American  government  upon  the  poor  hea- 
then— the  benighted  Indians.  We  soon  found 
that  she  had  ingeniously  gathered  all  Indians 
and  it  is  so  very  vague  and  general  a  term) 
nto  one  grand  aggregate,  and  imputed  the  suf 
ferings  and  wrongs  of  the  natives  of  Hindostan, 
Australia,  and  North  and  South  America,  all  to 
our  government !  By  what  mental  process  she 
had  arrived  at  this  conclusion  I  do  not  know, 
hut  it  appears  there  is  sometimes  an  ingenuity 
even  in  ignorance.  This  young  lady  was  very 
pious,  truly  so  I  may  not  doubt,  but  her  pi  ty 
was  too  ^btrusive,  too  much  in  the  style  we 
heard  a  negro  call  "talkee  religion."  Mr  Wil- 
derton,  very  gently  and  kindly,  that  she  might 
not  be  again  so  preposterous,  pointed  out  to  her< 


LETTERS    FROM 


the  little  mistake  into  which  her  deficiency  in 
geographical  science  had  led  her,  when  she  fer- 
vently thanked  God  her  knowledge  was  not 
"  of  this  world.""  Assuredly  it  is  not. 

Another  young  lady  thought  a  country  with- 
out a  king  or  queen  must  be  so  dull — all  princes 
are  so  witty  that  dulness  is  unknown  within 
their  circle  ;  and  when  she  found  America  had 
not  always  been  a  republic,  she  asked  who  got 
the  crown  jewels  the  kings  must  have  had  in 
the  old  times ! 

Even  intelligent  persons  in  England  appear  to 
believe  that  a  system  of  harshness,  rapacity, 
and  injustice  is  pursued  towards  the  aboriginal 
Indians  by  the  authorities  and  people  of  the  Uni- 
ted States.  The  contrary  I  believe  to  be  the  case. 
Pew  here  appear  to  know  that  the  amount  paid 
annually  by  our  government  to  each  Indian  with- 
in the  territories  of  the  Republic,  is  greater  than 
the  average  amount  of  all  taxes  paid  to  the  state 
by  a  subject  of  Prussia;  that  is,  each  Indian  re- 
ceives more  from  our  government  than  each 
Prussian  pays  to  his  ;  this  appears  from  an  es- 
•timate  prepared  from  official  reports  for  a  Prus- 
sian periodical.  Another  thing  appears  clear 
enough  to  me,  that  the  English  do  not  like  to  be 
undeceived  in  their  erroneous  estimate  of  Amer- 
ican wrong-doings. 

Surely,  ignorance  of  American  matters  is  not 
to  be  considered  creditable  to  an  Englishman, 
much  less  to  an  English  historian :  and  yet, 
how  careless  is  Mr.  Alison,  as  if  it  were  an  in- 
different matter  whether  his  statements  about 
America  were  accurate  or  not ;  whether  he 
gave  his  readers  facts  or  dilutions  of  them.  He 
says  that  America  rushed  headlong  into  a  war 
•with  Great  Britain  in  1812,  with  a  navy  of  only 
four  frigates.  "  True,"  he  proceeds,  "  the  four 
frigates  did  great  things;"  and,  as  no  others  are 
mentioned,  and  more  than  two  thousand  British 
vessels  were  lost  or  captured  during  the  war, 
they  must,  indeed!  What  powers  of  ubiquity 
each  frigate  must  have  possessed — far  beyond 
Sir  Boyle  Roach's  bird,  which  was  only  in  two 
places  at  once  ;  even  equal  to  those  of  the  mad 
Tilburina's  love — 

"  Ha  !  did  you  call  my  love  ? 
— He's  here  !     He's  there  !     //*'*  everywhere  .m 

The  English  admit  they  are  greatly  taken  with 
the  beauty  and  completeness  of  the  American 
line  of  packet  ships,  and  they  ought  to  admit 
those  frigate?  were  more  taking  still ;  especially 
when  they  learn  from  Mr.  Alison,  that  the  potent 
-navy  of  Great  Britain  destroyed  or  captured  only 
sixteen  hundred  American  vessels  during  this 
unnatural  contest. 

One  of  the  most  amusing  assertions  of  this 
grave  historian  is,  that,  among  the  people  of 
•the  United  States,  "  neither  the  future  nor  the 
•past  excite  any  sort  of  attention  !  !"  This,  in 
the  front  of  the  universal  complaint  (in  Britain), 
that  an  American,  in  his  untiring  boastfulness 
of  his  country,  out-gasconades  a  Gascon !  Why, 
if  they  regard  neither  what  has  been  nor  what 
•may  he ;  what  their  country  has  accomplished 
or  hopes  to  achieve,  what  can  they  boast  of! 
Whence  their  topics  1  Of  the  mere  passing 
moment  they  cannot  be ;  it  is  impossible ;  for 
the  undefinable  present  has  ever  an  uncertainty 
about  it.  0  why,  when  America  is  concerned, 
do  so  many  English  authors  prove  that  history 
is  indeed  "an  old  almanac,"  but  without  an  al- 
jmanac's  correctness  1  Adieu. 


P.S.  I  wrote  the  foregoing  this  morning,  and 
must  add  a  few  lines  before  I  retire  to  rest — 
for  the  assertion  I  have  made  of  the  extent,  the 
amazing  extent  of  English  ignorance  upon 
American  topics,  has  been  amply  confirmed. 
It  is  odd  enough  that  the  people  of  the  country 
possessing  more  colonies  than  all  the  world  be- 
side, seem  to  know  least  of  transatlantic  mat- 
ters ;  it  is  not  because  they  care  less,  but  be- 
cause they  think  they  know,  and  here  ignorance 

is  no  reproach.    I  have  just  returned  from . 

I  dined  there;  rather  a  large  party,  and  the  con- 
versation was  chiefly  about  America.  A  lady 
was  present  whose  appearance  is  very  prepos- 
sessing :  she  is  one  of  the  few  (not  young)  la- 
dies looking  exceedingly  well  in  light  colours, 
even  in  white ;  in  her  youth  she  had  been  gov- 
erness in  the  family  of  Lord  ,  whose  eldest 

daughter,  educated  by  this  very  lady,  is  account- 
ed "  literary" — indeed,  to  have  no  twilight  tinge 
of  blue  :  the  governess,  from  her  uncommon 
beauty,  attracted  the  attention  of  one  of  her  la- 
dyship's relatives,  and  they  were  married.  She 
asked  me,  on  this  occasion,  if  we  were  likely  to 
approve  of  Sir  C.  Metcalfe  in  the  room  of  Sir 
C.  Bagot,  for  governor.  I  answered,  that  the 
people  of  the  United  States  could  not  be  expect- 
ed to  care  much  about  it. 

"  0,  he  is  not  governor  of  that  part  of  Amer- 
ica, then,  I  mean  your  part  ?" 

My  dear,"  interposed  her  husband,  "  you 
have  forgotten  that  the  United  States  revolted 
a  long  time  ago,  and  are  not  now  under  the  con- 
trol of  the  governor  of  Canada." 

The  lady  smiled  most  pleasantly,  and  I  was 
lost  in  admiration— the  gentleman  was  so  very 
well  informed.  English  ladies,  as  I  said  before, 
always  smile  when  ignorant  of  the  matter  in 
discourse,  and  sweetly,  too.  "  Those  constant 
smiles,"  said  Talleyrand,  "  all  beyond  under- 
standing." 

A  gentleman  in  the  same  company  spoke  as 
one  having  authority  ;  he  entertained  us  with 
an  account  of  his  travels  in  Russia  ;  and  it  then 
pleased  him  to  be  severe  on  the  American  love 
for  show — for  tinsel !  Yes,  Julia,  tinsel !  Sure- 
ly he  was  not  thinking  of  the  fondness  of  the 
aborigines  for  glitter  and  beads ;  for,  perhaps, 
he  had  read  Robertson.  He  then  "  changed  his 
hand,"  and  was  very  indignant  at  our  shameful 
treatment  of  the  free  blacks.  Mr.  B.  asked  him 
f  he  had  ever  seen  a  veritable  negro.  "  Of 
course  I  have,"  replied  the  gentleman  with  a 
sneer  of  wisdom,  "a  hundred  and  fifty  togeth- 
er, and  in  London."  I  now  felt  desirous  of  hear- 
ng  more,  thinking  that  the  numberless  advo- 
cates of  slave-emancipation  in  England  had 
overcome  their  repugnance  to  any  domestic  or 
social  intercourse  with  negroes,  and  that  some 
of  the  free  Africans  might  become  settled  in  the 
Three  Queendoms,  as  in  the  free  states  with 
us ;  but  it  came  out,  alas !  in  consequence  of 
Vlr.  B's  farther  questioning,  that  this  traveller 
and  debater  had  seen  a  hundred  and  fifty  East 
Indians  at  one  of  the  docks,  and  mistook  them 
for  Guinea  negroes,  with  their  woolly  heads  and 
copiousness  of  lip! 

There  used  to  be  complaints  of  East  India 
captains  bringing  over  Asiatic  sailors  and  aban- 
doning them  in  London.  As  it  respected  for- 
eigners, very  probably  some  remedy  has  been 
found  for  the  wrong.  I  have  seen  some  of 


AN   AMERICAN   LADY". 


these  Lascars  acting  as  street-sweepers  here 
standing  at  the  crossings  in  their  native  attire, 
and  looking  quite  picturesque.  I  suppose,  1'rom 
their  complexion  and  phisiognomy  (at  once  ma- 
lign and  keen),  that  they  are  Malays — negroes 
indeed !  At  one  of  the  anti-slavery  meetings  in 
Exeter  Hall,  a  man  of  colour  (not  a  black)  from 
one  of  our  cities  spoke  very  well.  "  I  told  you," 
one  lady  said  to  another,  before  they  got  into 
their  carriage,  for  I  was  waiting  close  behind, 
and  could  not  avoid  hearing,  "  I  told  you,  my 
Jove,  and  you  see  I  was  correct,  the  Americans 
•  are  not  black,  only  brown."  You  are  not  very 
brown,  Julia.  A  lady  once  expressed  to  me 
her  commiseration  that  I  was  returning  to  a 
city  so  pestered  with— what  think  you  1  Rats  1 
No.  Moschetoes  1  No.  Alligators !  Again 
adieu.  Ever,  etc. 


LETTER  XXXIII. 

Funerals. — Professors  of  Tears. — A  Black  Coachman. — 
The  Irish  "  Wakes."—"  The  Scream  of  the  Morning."— 
New-England  Towns. — Newness. — Mr.  Dickens. — New 
York.  —  "Uncredi table"  Statement.— Mr.  Guy.— York- 
shire.— Ruin  of  England. — Ruined  Cities  of  America. — 
Chinese  Exhibition. —  "Literary  Gentlemen  in  their 
Summer  Costumes." — Penny-a-Liners. — China. — A  Fit 
of  "  Abstraction." 

London, ,  1843. 

MY  DEAREST  JULIA  —  "They  order,"  said 
Sterne,  "  this  matter  better  in  France  ;"  and 
they  order,  say  I,  these  things  better  in  America. 
I  speak  of  funerals,  of  funeral  pomps ;  not  merely 
those  of  the  aristocratic  in  rank,  but  among  the 
middle  classes. 

"And  see  the  well-plumed  hearse  comes  nodding  on," 

.and  it  is  followed  by  a  string  of  mourning-coaches, 
and  alongside  walk  men  called  "  mutes,"  or 
"  mourners,"  who  are  hired  for  the  occasion — 
vicarious  sorrowers — professors  of  tears  !  The 
horses  are  all  black  ;  plumes  and  feathers  wave 
-abundantly  ;  pomp  is  lavished  on  an  occasion 
•when  men  ought  to  feel  its  nothingness — and  so 
the  procession  advances  to  the  abode  of  death. 

These  gorgeous  funerals  are  called  "  a  mark 
of  respect'' — to  whom  1  The  dead  cannot  feel 
it,  and  is  living  sorrow  to  be  soothed  by  parade  ? 
Even  if  it  be  a  mark  of  respect,  who  is  to  observe 
'it  in  the  crowded  streets  of  London!  The 
worldling  may  bestow  a  fugitive  glance,  to  criti- 
•cise  the  show,  but  does  any  one  ask  who  is  thus 
"honoured  or  mocked  (as  men  may  regard  it)? 
does  any  stranger  stop  to  say,  "  Whose  funeral 
is  that  T"  Very — very  rarely.  Domestic  affec- 
tions are,  I  doubt  not,  strong  in  England — for 
even  a  selfish  man  loves  his  family,  were  it 
only  because  they  are  his ;  and  surely  those, 
•whatever  their  relationship,  who  follow  the 
.hearse,  cannot  be  soothed  or  gratified  that  they 
follow  it,  as  if  the  grave  were  to  be  approached 
triumphally.  Then  the  expense  is  often  enor- 
mous :  in  cases  where  money  is  abundant,  this 
matters  little  ;  but  when  the  means  of  a  family 
are  reduced  by  its  head  being  called  hence, 
what  folly  to  squander  a  large  sum  to  enrich  an 
undertaker.  Is  not  widowhood  bitter  enough, 
•without  poverty  being  superadded  1  Alas,  and 
alas!  yes. 

I  have  heard  it  remarked  that  undertakers, 
'with  mutes,  mourners,  "  and  all  their  trumpery," 


were  in  general  jovial-looking  persons  ;  no  doubt 
the  wine  and  spirit  distributed  to  them  at  lurier- 
als,  and  their  frequent  exposure  to  the  weather, 
give  them  a  rosy  look  —  an  added  mockery. 
The  announcement  on  the  signs  of  those  trades- 
men is  far  more  indicative  of  their  calling  than 
are  the  coffin-ornaments  in  their  windows— 
"  Funerals  performed." 

The  other  morning  I  received  a  message  from 
the  coachmaster,  that  he  wished  to  employ  the 
man,  who  drives  my  "job"  otherwise,  and  more 
profitably  for  him,  three  or  four  days,  and  hoped 
it  would  be  the  same  to  me,  as  he  would  send 
a  very  civil  and  careful  black  coachman  in  his 
stead  ;  of  course  I  assented,  and  was,  indeed, 
rather  curious  to  see  this  negro  Automedon  ; 
for  such  I  concluded  he  would  be,  though  on 
his  appearance  he  proved  but  one  of  the  pale- 
faces, if  a  man  with  a  bright,  rum-coloured  nose 
(cause  and  effect,  perhaps)  can  be  called  a  pale- 
face. It  seems  he  habitually  drives  a  hearse  or 
mourning-coach,  called  "a  black  job,"  and  is 
therefore,  after  the  favourite  ellipsis,  called  "  a 
black  coachman."  This  man  drove  character- 
stically,  as  if  at  a  funeral,  and  always  wore  a 
suit  of  rusty  black ;  so  do  his  professional  breth- 
ren ;  and  though  they  may  not 

"  Bear  about  the  mockery  of  wo 
To  midnight  dances  and  the  public  show," 

they  will  to  their  pot-houses  and  vulgar  haunts. 
I  think  the  simplicity  of  American  funerals  is 
greatly  preferable ;  the  kinsfolk  and  friends  fol- 
owing  the  corpse,  either  on  foot  or  in  plain 
plumeless  carriages,  thus  unostentatiously  ren- 
dering the  last — what  a  sorrowful  word  it  is  ! 
the  last  earthly  office  ;  and  this  is  also  the  cus- 
tom in  the  country  parts  of  England.  Happily, 
London  is  not  yet  England.  What  a  contrast 
:hese  splendid  funerals  offer  to  the  pauper's  ! 
[n  the  funerals  of  the  gentry  it  is  customary  for 
the  friends  to — not  attend,  but  to  send  their  car- 
iages  ;  the  blinds  being  up  —  surely  personal 
attendance  might  be  yielded— if  this  carriage- 
sending  be  considered  a  mark  of  respect,  it  is 
a  very  empty  one. 

You  have  read  of  the  Irish  "  wakes."  I  have 
icard  them  much  censured  in  England,  but  they 
are  far  more  defensible  than  the  unmeaning 
3omp  I  have  described ;  they  have  at  least  the 
expression  of  grief,  if  it  be  too  violent.  I  have 
istened  and  felt  interest  in  Kathleen's  account 
of  these  ceremonies  ;  they  seem  to  me  quite 
Oriental — similar  to  the  loud  "  wul-wulleh,"  the 
dirge  of  the  Turkish  women — it  is  mentioned  in 
one  of  the  stanzas  of  the  Bride  of  Abydos.  I 
understand  that  many  women,  whose  reputation 
as  "  a  beautiful  cry"  is  established,  go  uninvited 
rom  wake  to  wake  in  Ireland,  but  are  not  gen- 
erally paid,  only,  at  least,  in  provisions.  The 
body  is  "  waked"  by  the  funeral  screams  every 
second  hour  for  three  days  among  the  better 
classes — shorter  periods  among  the  poorer :  the 
wailings  are  hushed  after  midnight,  until  the 
dawn  appears,  when  they  rise  shriller  and  wilder, 
and  must  sound  awful  in  the  stillness  of  the 
morning.  It  is  a  curse  and  a  dire  one  in  Ire- 
nd,  "  schrad  wannauth"  (I  spell  from  my  ear), 
the  scream  of  the  morning  to  you  !" 
I  think  if  I  lived  in  Ireland  I  should  love  the 
people  dearly  ;  and  if  I  had  to  prolong  my  stay 
in  Europe  a  few  months  I  should  like  to  visit  it, 
only  I  could  not  do  so  alone.  Miss  Edgeworth 


76 


LETTERS  FROM 


has  made  ns  familiar  with  her  country  ;  oh  ! 
why  has  she  ceased  to  write  I 

"  She  will  not  write,  and  (more  provoking  still) 
Ye  gods :  she  will  not  write,  and— will." 

What  a  contrast  the  towns  in  "  ould  Ireland" 
must  present  to  the  flourishing  towns,  and  vil- 
lages  in  New-England,  such  as  Portland,  Bruns- 
wick, Augusta,  and  Bangor  in  Maine ;  Worces- 
ter, Springfield,  Concord,  Northampton,  Am- 
herst.  in  Massachusetts ;  Concord  and  Keene  in 
New-Hampshire  (I  really  cannot  forbear  going 
on  with  the  list,  I  take  such  a  pleasure  in  it— it 
tells  so  of  home) ;  Brattleboro'  and  Burlington 
in  Vermont ;  New-Haven,  Middletown,  and  Nor- 
wich in  Connecticut,  and  hundreds  of  others, 
which  to  mention  were  tiresome.  I  .wonder 
that  European  travellers  have  said  so  little  of 
places  where  the  purer  American  character  is 
found— have  so  sparingly  commended  their  mo- 
rality, industry,  and  enterprise;  surely  they 
cannot  prefer  the  picturcsquencss  of  rags,  beg- 

fary,  and  crime  in  the  towns  of  the  Old  World. 
t  must  be  that  these  American  towns,  being 
devoid  alike  of  squalid  and  most  attenuated  pov- 
erty, and  flaunting,  overgrown  wealth,  may  pre- 
sent few  characteristics  fitted  to  fill  pointed  par- 
agraphs, but  some  one  might  have  expressed  a 
wish — would  it  were  thus  in  old  England !  Near 
London  is  a  new  model  prison.  New-Haven  1 
think  a  model  town ;  for  I  believe  among  its  fif 
teen  thousand  inhabitants  there  is  hardly  a  sin> 
gle  pauper,  and  in  1835  there  were  only  three 
adults  unable  to  read  and  write. 

Boz  quizzes  the  newness,  the  yesterday-aspect 
of  these  places  :  why  surely  he  did  not  expect 
the  rust  of  antiquity  in  modern  transatlantic 
towns  \  And  as  for  newness,  let  him  laugh  at 
the  newness  of  his  own  pleasant  locale,  the  Re- 
gent's Park,  though  to  be  sure  the  stucco  does 
look  something  musty.  Mr.  Dickens  passed  a 
Sunday  in  Worcester,  Massachusetts,  and  amu 
sed  himself  with  the  new  houses  and  the  church 
goers ;  but  he  seems  not  to  have  discovera 
that  in  that  little  town,  its  newness  notwith 
standing,  is  an  Antiquarian  Society  with  a  libra 
ry  of  twelve  thousand  volumes — some  of  them 
very  rare  ;  and  more  remarkable  still  in  such  a 
chronicler,  its  excellent  State  Asylum  for  the 
insane  has  apparently  escaped  him  too.  I  am 
always  amused  to  think  of  the  criticisms  the 
American  boys  passed  upon  Boz  as  he  sat  in  the 
car  at  Baltimore,  telling  him  more  about  his  ap- 
pearance than  he  ever  heard  in  his  life  before. 
I  really  think  he  had  as  little  to  fear  as  most 
men  from  such  a  personal  review.  Though  I 
have  commented  to  you  freely  enough  on  Mr. 
Dickens's  American  Notes,  I  cannot  but  admit 
the  tone  of  right  feeling,  the  bonhomie,  the  kind- 
liness that  often  manifests  itself:  the  faults  of 
the  author  in  this  work  are  of  a  negative  char- 
acter; his  merits  are  positive.  "Satire's  his 
weapon,  but  he's  too  discreet" — too  gentleman- 
ly, too  honourable  to  carry  it  into  private  life — 
into  personal  details.  The  ponderous  blunder- 
ings  of  Mr.  Alison  are  far  more  censurable  than 
the  light  mistakes  of  Boz.  I  wonder  how  he 
came  to  adopt  so  absurd  a  namel  Our  ears 
have  become  familiarized  to  it,  but  it  is  absurd 
— Boz  !  What  meaning  is  there  in  the  sound  ? 
Boz! 
I  have  heard  of  some  cynic  declaring  that  he 


ound  the  world  only  one  attorney,  and  I  was 
orrified  to  read  the  other  day  that  New-York 
as  one  bankrupt.  Newspaper  paragraphs  told 
f  the  whole  side  of  a  paper  being  filled  with  the 
ames ;  I  soon  found,  however,  that  the  list  was 
f  years,  and  not  of  a  single  day,  as  was  inti- 
mated—but  I  did  not  find  that  the  English  news- 
_apers  made  this  very  necessary  explanation, 
his  was  hardly  fair,  and  in  quarters  where 
ne  generally  expects  fairness,  and  often  finds 
t  too. 

Mr.  Guy— you  wonder  I  mention  him  so  fre- 
uently — but  he  amuses  me — he  anglicises  so 
apidly,  and  is  so  especial,  so  particular  an  ex- 
:eption  to  the  general  shrewdness  and  intelli- 
;ence  of  his  countrymen.     Mr.  Guy  has  lately 
>rocured  unto  himself  a  fiery  steed,  coalblack. 
Odin's,  and  this  morning  immediately  after 
)reakfast,  as  I  was  looking  out  of  the  window, 
and  the  street  was  only  beginning  to  be  busy,  a 
valier  was  fapidly  approaching — I  thought  I 
could  not  be  mistaken  in  the  gentleman 
'•  \Vlio  thundering  came  on  blackest  steed, 
With  slackened  bit  and  hoof  of  speed," 

and  it  was  Mr.  Guy— he  stopped  so  suddenly  at 
.he  door  that  he  had  nearly  alighted  over  the 
lorse's  head,  and  there  might  have  been  on  the 
scull  or  pavement  "a  dint  of  pity  ;"  he  called  to 
me  that  Mrs.  Guy  and  he  would  depart  for  Ed- 
nburgh  in  a  short  time,  and  Mrs.  Guy  was  go- 
ng to  hold  a  farewell  soiree,  and  requested  the 
pleasure  of  my  company  ;  notes  were  to  be  sent 
10  the  general  visiters,  but  he  was  calling  upon 
a  few  personally,  as  a  compliment  to  them,  and 
nice  exercise  for  his  new  horse !  The  worthy 
man  lately  has  been  in  Yorkshire,  where  Mrs. 
Guy  has  a  small  property,  and  where  he  bought 
this  wonderful  quadruped,  bringing  it  up  with 
him  by  railway  ;  he  was  delighted  with  the  hos- 
pitality of  the  farmer,  the  late  owner  of  the  ani- 
mal, 


"  Who  gave  him  bacon,  nothing  lean. 
Pudding  that  might  have  pleased  a  dean," 

and  fowls  and  custards,  and  I  know  not  what — 
then  came  the  wine,  the  brandy,  and  the  bar- 
gain. I  doubt  not  the  hearty  Yorkshireman 
taught  his  guest  to  drink  deep  ere  he  departed. 
Mrs.  Guy,  her  husband  told  me,  had  engaged 
two  London  footmen,  who  looked  almighty  spry, 
and  spoke,  she  said,  "high  English."  I  hope 
that  does  not  mean  pure  Cockney.  Everything 
ntimates  a  determination  to  surprise  their  im- 
mediate circle  in  the  Scottish  metropolis,  and 
unless  it  be  a  very  difficult  feat,  Mr.  Guy  is  tol- 
erably certain  to  accomplish  it. 

met  a  young  English  gentleman  the  other 
evening,  to  be  sure  he  was  a  very  young  one, 
and  the  only  specimen  of  the  class,  if  it  be  a 
class,  I  have  met  with  or  heard  of;  he  was  most 
emphatic,  and  the  emphasis  sounded  more  oddly 
being  drawn  through  the  nose,  on  the  ruin  of 
England,  moral,  religious,  and  political.  I  never 
heard  an  American  so  positive  on  the  subject, 
which  is  saying  something.  The  despondent 
youth  even  favoured  us  with  a  quotation  more 
remarkable  for  being  alliterative  than  original- 
England,  he  said, 

"  Bloomed— a  garden  and  a  grave  !" 
Mr.  Mortimer,  who  was  at  first  sitting  apart, 
looking  at  some  maps,  affected  to  believe,  as  he 
joined  in  the  conversation,  that  the  line  had  beea. 


AN    AMERICAN    LADY. 


applied  to  Kensal  Green  Cemetery,  and  was  com- 
plimentary on  its  appositeness !  The  ruin  of 
England — such  nonsense  !  I  have  heard  of  this 
ruin  being  shown  from  statistical  details,  official 
returns,  and  newspaper  statements ;  the  exist- 
ence of  great  evils  has  thus  been  proved  (the 
•worst  of  which,  ignorance  and  poverty,  the 
English  might  easily  ameliorate  if  they  chose); 
but  as  to  ruin — this  same  ruin  has  been  proved 
in  the  same  way  every  year  for  the  last  fifty  at 
least. 

The  conversation  then  turned  to  those  most 
interesting  places,  the  ruined  cities  in  the  south- 
ern parts  of  North  America,  Guatemala,  Yuca- 
tan, and  Mexico.  A  good  deal  of  interest  seems 
to  be  felt  on  the  subject  in  England— how  can  it 
be  otherwise,  when  Mr.  Norman  tells  us  that 
the  ruins  of  the  city  of  Chi  Chen,  in  Yucatan, 
show  it  must  have  been  one  of  the  largest  the 
world  ever  saw  1  The  same  evening,  I  remem- 
ber, we  visited  the  Chinese  exhibition  here :  a 
very  interesting  one  it  is,  and  I  really  wonder 
how  the  collector  (an  American,  I  believe)  con- 
trived to  amass  so  many  curious  things  among 
a  people  so  jealous  of  foreign  interference  as  the 
Chinese,  and  then  transport  them  to  England. 
The  collection  is  so  arranged  that  it  tells  its  own 
tale — artisans  are  represented  at  their  work, 
and  shops  with  their  wares.  Literary  ability  is 
much  valued  in  China,  and  there  were  figures  of 
Chinese  literary  gentlemen  in  their  summer  cos- 
tumes. Two  poorly-dressed,  dissipated-looking 
young  men  were  commenting  loudly  and  laugh- 
ingly on  this.  "  How  could  we  be  represented," 


asked  one,  "in  our  summer  costume  1 


Ea- 


much  is  the  postman's;  and  there  is  such  a 
rapid  running  down  stairs  when  it  is  heard — in- 
leed,  to  quote  a  not  very  superlative  ban  mot  of 


sily,"  replied  the  other :  "  shirt  sleeves  and 
blouse  in  summer  —  Mackintosh  in  winter.' 
The  "  we"  showed  the  gentlemen  were,  or  ac- 
counted themselves,  literary.  "  They  were  most 
likely  penny-a-liners,"  Mr.  Mortimer  said,  "who 
had  gained  admittance  gratuitously,  and  were  a 
class  paid  for  paragraphs  supplied  to  the  news- 
papers at  the  rate  of  a  penny-a-line"  (this,  I  sup- 
pose, is  to  be  understood  literally) ;  "  the  editor's 
pruning-hook  being  often  unsparingly  applied 
before  the  article  is  printed ;  they  are  stanch 
hunters  after  news,  and  if  not  belied,  sometimes 
ingenious  coiners  of  it." 

The  collection  fills  a  noble  hall,  and  is  very 
rich  in  lanterns.  I  do  not  wonder  that  the  Chi- 
nese are  fond  of  artificial  light,  for  they  appear 
to  prefer  and  adhere  to  the  artificial  in  eve- 
rything ;  except,  perhaps,  in  their  cowardice, 
which  seems  very  natilral.  What  will  the  em- 
pire of  China  be  a  hundred  years  hence  1  Will  it 
form  a  fourth  Presidency  with  Bombay,  Madras, 
and  Calcutta !  The  British,  it  may  be  said,  have 
no  right  to  China :  right,  they  may  have  none  ; 
but  they  have  soldiers,  sailors,  and  steamships. 
I  have  heard  it  said  that  the  aristocratic  fash- 
ion of  knocker  and  bell-handle  abduction  was 
on  the  decline  ;  but  an  attempt,  very  nearly  suc- 
cessful, was  made  upon  our  hall-knocker  last 
night :  perhaps  it  was  the  work  of  some  would- 
be  aristocrats — some  wine-inspired  spirits 
"  Scorning  Reason's  tame,  pedantic  rules, 

And  Order's  vulgar  botulnge,  never  meant 

For  souls  sublime  as  theirs." 

I  should  not  have  greatly  cared  if  they  had  suc- 
ceeded ;  for  the  knocker  has  a  most  unpleasan 
vteeth-on-edge  'sound,  and  we  must  have  had  a 
new  one  then  ;  the  only  knock  that  interests  m 


"  it  is  a  knock  that  brings  everybody 
down."  Hood  has  made  all  puns  seem  so  poor 
compared  to  his,  though  puns  I  ought  hardly  to 
call  them,  they  have  such  a  body  of  wit.  The 
lady  of  the  house  has  just  told  me  that  she  had 
discovered  a  young  neighbour  was  guilty  of  the 
attempt  upon  the  knocker  :  when  accused  of  it, 
he  said  he  had  been  dining  out,  and  if  he  did  it, 
t  must  have  been  in  a  fit  of  absence  of  mind ! 
He  should  have  said  in  a  fit  of  abstraction. 

Ever,  etc. 


LETTER  XXXIV. 

Cries  of  London.— Sound.— Aristocracy.— Gluttony.— "  Re- 
pudiation."— Bank  of  England.— Bad  Example  badly 
followed. — Standing  Army. — Ireland. — United  States  a 
preat  Barrack.  —  Military  Despotism.  —  Art-Unions. — 
Prince  Albert— Sir  Robert  Peel  in  Fetters.— Houses  in 
America. 

London, ,  1843. 

MY  DEAREST  JULIA — I  remember  when  I  was 
a  child  in  New- York  being  fond  of  a  little  pic- 
torial work  of  "  The  Cries  of  London,"  and 
thinking  how  pleasant  it  would  be  to  verify 
them  in  London.  It  would  have  been  quite  as 
difficult  as  to  verify  the  other  wishes  of  child- 
hood ;  for,  diversified  as  are  the  street-criers 
and  the  wares  they  vend,  all  agree  in  one  thing 
—with  one  voice  they  accord  to  be  unintelligible. 
The  purchasers  of  these  itinerant  articles  be- 
come used  to  the  tone  in  which  the  sellers  an- 
nounce their  goods,  and  that  seems  sufficient — 
they  recognise  the  sound,  if  they  cannot  distin- 
guish the  words  or  the  sense. 

Unhappily,  the  English  are  satisfied  with  a 
similar  system  in  other  things ;  they  are  con- 
tented with  mere  sound,  nay,  proud  of  being  so. 
Christianity,  charity,  and  intelligence  are  sub- 
tantially  in  the  land,  hut  so  strange  is  the  sound 
hereof  that  the  cries  of  London  are  outdone  in 
heir  unintelligibility.  The  echo  to  "  Christian 
wealth"  should  not  be  "  ignorant  poverty ;"  the 
?cho  to  the  injunction  "  use  a  portion  of  your 
enormous,  your  superfluous  wealth,  to  teach 
nd  relieve  the  poor,"  should  not  be — "  impossi- 
jle."  The  English  are  "  wise  to  learn  and  quick 
o  know"  the  faults  of  other  people,  in  recom- 
)ense,  no  doubt,  that  they  are  stoneblind  to  their 
own  ;  and  if  another  nation  existed  with  half 
he  means  of  England,  and  left  its  poor  unedu- 
cated and  uncared  for,  and  when  so  grievous  a 
hing  became  known — how  Exeter  Hall — but 
no,  I  do  not  think  there  would  be  declamation 
n  Exeter  Hall,  for  indignation  at  such  heartless 
neglect  would  take  away  all  powers  of.oratory, 

'  Strong  feeling  came,  and  throttled  speech ;" 
the  moral  health — no,  not  that — the  health  of 
the  public  moralizers,  would  be  endangered ; 
pamphlets  they  must  write  diurnally,  to  carry 
off  their  humours  ;  if  not  privileged  to  be  au- 
thors, apoplexy  would  be  authoritative  among 
them  ;  the  surgical  lancet  must  be  prevented  by 
the  philanthropic  pen — they  must  let  either  blood 


or  ink. 

Often  in  America  have  I  been  wearied  to  hear 
of  the  evils  of  aristocracy  ;  no  matter  what  was 
the  British  evil  complained  of,  aristocracy  was 


755 


LETTERS    FROM 


its  root.  Very  idle  declamation  was  very  indus- 
triously employed  upon  the  subject : 

"  A  cuckoo's  song 
That's  unco  easy  said  aye." 

But  the  worst  aristocracy  seems  that  of  wealth, 
mere  wealth.  Nothing  can  tie  said  too  strongly 
condemnatory  of  the  selfishness  and  silliness  of 
the  rich  here  (whether  lords  or  shopkeepers, 
aristocrats  or  democrats,  matters  nothing),  who 
refuse  food  and  schools  to  the  poor.  But  for 
our  countrymen  to  impute  all  the  evils  of  Eng- 
land to  its  aristocracy,  is  just  as  absurd  as  in 
Mr.  Alison  and  some  newspaper  sages  to  impute 
all  the  evils  of  the  United  States  to  their  democ- 
racy. 

Cheap  boarding-schools,  for  boys  are  very  com- 
mon in  the  North  of  England;  though  I  believe 
Mr.  Dickens  has  written  down  some  of  their 
abominations.  I  have  heard  of  one  of  those 
schoolmasters,  who  did  not  expose  his  scholars, 
or,  rather,  the  boys  committed  to  his  care  (for 
therfe  was  small  scholarship  in  the  case),  to  any 
ills  that  flesh  may  be  heir  to  from  over-feeding, 
but  nevertheless  attributed  all  their  ailments, 
bodily  or  mental,  to  their  gluttony ;  colds  or  fe- 
vers, dulness  or  impudence,  it  still  was  gluttony. 
One  day  a  poor  boy  broke  his  leg  out  of  doors, 
and  was  carried  to  the  master :  "  Ay,  lad,"  he 
exclaimed,  "  I  always  told  you  this ;  a  broken 
leg — all  owing  to  your  gluttony."  And  so  all 
the  evils  of  England  or  America  are  charged  by 
the  shortsighted  in  both  countries  upon  the  de- 
voted heads  of  aristocracy  and  democracy — glut- 
tons both,  if  we  believe  such  scribes,  in  their 
appetite  for  wrong. 

How  is  the  evil  to  be  attributed  to  these  an- 
tagonistic causes,  if  it  be  the  same  on  both  sides 
the  Atlantic]  "Repudiation,"  for  instance  1 
The  Bank  of  England,  in  the  recollection  of 
many  not  very  old  people,  "repudiated"  cash 
payments  ;  and  this,  I  heard,  was  by  direct  order 
from  the  government  issued  on  a  Sabbath-day  ! 
To  be  sure  I  also  heard  this  corrected  to  "  the 
Lord's  Day,"  which  certainly  mends  the  matter. 
The  Governor  and  Company  of  the  Bank  of 
England  promised,  in  very  intelligible  print,  to 
pay  a  pound,  or  so  many  pounds,  on  demand,  for 
value  received.  When  the  demand  was  made 
how  was  it  complied  with  1  Not  by  payment  in 
specie,  for  the  acknowledged  receipt  of  value ; 
but  by  another  promise  to  pay,  on  cleaner  and 
uncrumpled  paper.  Perhaps  this  was  not  ex- 
actly what  is  now  called  "repudiation  ;"  it  seems 
to  me,  moreover,  that  when  the  British  rulers, 
by  an  arbitrary  act,  reduced  the  rate  of  interest 
from  five  to  three  and  a  half  per  cent ,  they  "re- 
pudiated" a  part  of  the  engagement  to  which 
public  faith  was  pledged,  and  this  in  addition  to 
the  refusal  to  pay  in  specie.  I  am  sorry  the 
Rev.  Sydney  Smith  had  occasion  to  write  his 
letter  on  the  subject  of  the  non-payment  of  in- 
terest due  on  the  money  borrowed  from  this 
country  by  the  State  of  Pennsylvania.  The 
Britannia,  a  pleasant  and  clever  paper  generally, 
attributed  this  "repudiation,"  as  it  is  too  com- 
monly called,  to  democracy  !  In  former  years, 
when  the  interest  was  regularly  paid,  to  what 
was  that  to  be  attributed  ?  Pennsylvania  was 
as  democratic  then.  The  ancient  monarchies 
of  Spain  and  Portugal  do  not  pay  their  debts, 
principal  or  interest,  to  this  country — democracy 
again,  I  suppose.  Other  states  of  the  American 


Union  are  punctual  in  their  payments  :  are  not- 
they  democratic !  I  understand,  however,  that 
in  reality  Pennsylvania  has  never  "  repudiated" 
one  farthing  of  her  debts  ;  and  though  this  and 
some  few  of  the  other  states  have  failed  to  pro- 
vide for  the  interest  recently  due,  there  can  be  no 
reasonable  doubt  that  all  will  be  ultimately  and 
honourably  paid. 

I  wish  fervently  the  two  states,  or  whatever 
be  the  number  (Mr.  Alison  says  eleven,  so  in 
all  probability  there  are  not  more  than  two  or 
three),  who  have  "  repudiated"  a  part  of  their 
debts,  so  following  the  precedent  of  the  Bank  of 
England — a  bad  example  almost  as  badly  fol- 
lowed— I  wish,  I  say,  these  delinquent  states 
would  carry  out  the  example  set  by  the  bank,  and 
put  an  end  to  the  "repudiation,"  with  this  dif- 
ference to  the  bank's  procedure,  that  they  wait 
not  so  long  to  do  it.  I  was  told  by  a  Philadel- 
phia gentleman,  Mr. ,  that  if  ever  he  said 

anything  in  commendation  of  his  country,  and 
he  is  too  diffident  to  do  so  unnecessarily,  he  was 
always  met  with  this  "  repudiation,"  against 
which,  the  while,  he  is  strongly  indignant. 

When  Mr.  pleases  to  talk,  he  can  talk 

most  eloquently ;  but  he  cannot  argue  down 
prejudices  that  will  not  be  convinced,  so  he  gives 
up  the  argument  with  such  people  in  perfect  de- 
spair, and  "  every  puny  whipster  gets  his-sword," 
or  thinks  he  gets  it — but  this  is  nothing  to  the 
serious  evils  of  "  repudiation."  To  hear  some 
people  talk  of  this  matter  one  would  think  nei- 
ther America  nor  American  ever  paid  a  penny 
of  public  or  private  debt,  or  possessed  a  dollar. 

One  might  be  amused  with  the  perfect  non- 
sense on  this  subject  in  some  of  the  papers, 
were  it  not  that  the  consequence  may  be  lament- 
able by  producing  wrong  impressions  ;  the  num- 
ber of  the  English  "  who  undergo  the  fatigue  of 
judging  for  themselves,"  being  as  small  as  in  . 
Sheridan's  days,  their  faith  is  orthodox  in  their 
newspapers,  they  judge  most  dcpendently,  or, . 
rather,  they  form  their  judgment  on  what  their 
favourite  scribes  advance,  and  their  judgment 
or  opinion  (it  may  not  be  proper  to  call  it  judg- 
ment) once  formed,  is  rarely  altered,  no  matter 
how  erroneous  have  been  the  premises,  or  how 
ingenuous  the  subsequent  explanations — their 
self-conceit  prevents  their  acknowledging  (even 
to  themselves,  maybe)  that  they  were  wrong, . 
and  so  they  misjudge  to  the"  end  of  the  chapter. 
With  this  propensity  in  so  many  of  the  readers, 
it  is  well  that  the  leading  journals  maintain  the 
high  independent  character  (allowing  a  little  for 
party  spirit)  they  certainly  do.  Even  great 
statesmen,  in  granting  and  advocating  great 
changes,  have  been  known  to  confess  that  their 
opinion  of  the  impropriety  of  the  concessions 
remained  unchanged  !  English,  very. 

Another  topic  is  not  unfrequently  dwelt  upon 
n  America — the  standing  army  of  England,  and 
ts  influence ;  there  seems  to  me  nothing  what- 
ever to  complain  of  in  the  matter.  The  Conti- 
ental  kingdoms  of  Europe  maintain  far  larger 
standing  armies  ;  and  England  has  not  at  all  the 
aspect  of  a  military  state  ;  soldiers  are  seldom 
seen  in  the  streets  of  London.  In  Ireland  no 
doubt  it  is  very  different,  and  it  is  disgraceful  to 
the  statesmanship  of  the  country  that  30,000  sol- 
diers are  required  to  rule  the  Irish — peaceably. 
No  matter  what  are  the  causes  for  keeping  so 
arge  an  army  in  the  sister  kingdom,  the  British 


AN    AMERICAN    LADY. 


government  have  had  abundant  time  to  discover 
and  remove  them.  Ireland's  stationary  army 
furnishes  a  fine  commentary  on  the  complaints 
in  England  during  the  Canadian  insurrection, 
that  the  American  government  did  not  better 
control  the  turbulent  spirits  on  its  frontiers  —  per- 
haps they  could  not  spare  30,000  men  for  the 
purpose  ! 

I  have  not  had  the  good  fortune  to  witness  a 
review  ;  last  year  I  did  try  to  see  one  in  Hyde 
Park,  but  I  was  late,  and  saw  little  but  a  crowd 
and  a  dust  —  I  mean  literally  dust.  The  soldiers 
are  kept  almost  entirely  in  barracks.  I  have 
seen  the  Guards  on  state  occasions,  and  a 
guardsman  really  presents  the  beau  ideal  of  a 


soldier  —  so  erect, 
nothing  of  the  air  o 


mpt,  and  trim,  but  with 
a  "carpet-knight  so  trim"  — 


they  look  right  soldierly.  The  militias  are  not 
irnbodied  now,  nor  have  they  given  this  country 
the  multiplicity  of  colonels,  majors,  and  cap- 
tains, which  might  make  a  stranger  think  the 
United  States  of  North  America  a  great  barrack. 
I  wonder,  indeed,  no  English  traveller  has  in- 
sisted upon  so  legitimate  a  deduction  from  the 
premises.  As  to  the  relative  bravery  of  Ameri- 
can or  British  troops  when  arrayed  against  each 
other,  God  forbid  it  should  ever  be  farther  tried. 
I  have  heard  some  in  England  prophesy  the 
ultimate  fate  of  the  United  States  to  be  —  a  mili- 
tary despotism  ;  republics  end  so,  say  they. 
When  there  are  great  commotions,  great  con- 
querors arise,  whom  soldiers  follow  to  any  re- 
sult, and  whose  achievements  dazzle  and  over- 
awe the  peaceful  civilians.  Witness  Julius 
Caesar  —  witness  Napoleon  Bonaparte.  It  can 
never,  in  my  opinion,  be  so  in  America  :  for  this 
plain  reason,  the  people  are  educated,  and,  better 
still,  well  taught.  Men  who  will  unhesitatingly 
follow  a  martial  leader  through  blood  and  vio- 
lence, through  right  and  wrong,  must  have 
minds  bMnded  by  ignorance.  It  may  be  said  the 
Puritans  in  Charles's  days  were  not  ignorant  ; 
but  they  were  fanatics,  and  fanaticism  is  a 
species  of  blindness  of  mind.  It  may  not,  like 
ignorance,  be  altogether  unable  to  see  the  end 
to  be  attained,  but  it  sees  it  through  so  dis- 
coloured a  medium  that  its  real  character  is  not 
apparent.  Cromwell's  ambition  seemed  to  his 
soldiers  but  zeal  for  "  God  and  the  cause." 
•#•  *  #  * 

I  have  procured  the  engravings  you  write  for, 
and  you  have  not  overpraised  them.  There 
are  now  in  London  establishments  called  Art- 
Unions,  and  the  subscribers  to  them  every  year 
have  lotteries  for  paintings  and  engravings. 
"  You  may  get  a  good  painting  in  them,"  said 
Mr.  N.,  "by  chance."  They  are  all  good,  I 
fancy,  but  of  course  varying  considerably  in 
value.  There  have  been  complaints  in  print  of 
the  encouragement  to  immorality  these  lotteries 
present  —  one  of  the  gnats  the  English  strain  at 
when  tired  of  swallowing  full-grown  camels. 

I  sometimes  see  the  best  caricatures  at  Mr. 
Wilderton's  —  a  lady  cannot  stop  to  look  at  them 
in  the  print  shop  windows,  the  crowd  of  gazers 
preventing.  I  have  been  surprised  sometimes 


these  gentlemen  cannot  complain,  for  the  caric- 
aturists often  make  a  subject  of  their  sovereign' 
—(excuse  the  quibble,  it  is  of  the  prevalent 
order,  "the  next  best  thing,  etc.").  Neither 
does  Prince  Albert  escape.  One  really  ever 
and  anon  understands  some  ponderous  piece  of 
politics  better  from  these  clever  sketches  than 
from  the  long  parliamentary  detail  or  the  pam- 
phlets consequent  thereupon.  The  English  (very 
characteristically)  love  a  sly  hit  at  Prince  Al- 
bert ;  having  been — what  shall  I  say  ? — not  very 
rich  before  he  had  the  happiness  to  marry  a 
young  lady  undeniably  the  first  match  in  the 
world.  "  How  fortunate,"  I  heard  a  gentleman 
say,  "the  income-tax  does  not  affect  German 
as  well  as  Irish  absentees  ;  Prince  Albert  saves 
the  tax  on  his  Saxe  Coburg  property."  It  is  no 
little  praise  to  his  Royal  Highness  that  this 
seems  the  worst  that  can  be  said  of  him. 

.Mr.  Wilderton  has  sometimes  amused  me  by 
telling  of  the  criticisms  he  has  heard  people 
utter  at  the  print-shop  windows.  In  one  caric- 
ature, Sir  Robert  Peel,  as  a  character  in  some 
play,  is  represented  in  fetters ;  two  working 
men  were  looking  at  this,  and  one  of  them  rec- 
ognised Sir  Robert.  "But,"  said  he,  "surely 
he  never  had  irons  on,  nor  was  in  prison,  was 
he?"  "I  assure  you,"  interposed  Mr.  Wilder- 
ton,  "he  has  been  shackled,"  and  walking  away, 
he  ungenerously  left  the  Premier's  reputation 
in  this  uncertain  state. 

You  must  read  Mr.  Alison  on  America,  were 
it  only  to  wonder  how  a  clever  man  could  blun- 
der so.  He  actually  tells  his  readers  that  the 
houses  of  the  Americans  are  plain  externally 
but  gorgeous  within,  and  this,  forsooth,  to  con- 
ceal their  wealth  from  the  public  eye  !  Nay,  he 
even  assimilates  our  comfortable  domiciles  to 
,he  dwellings  of  the  Jews  in  the  days  of  Ivan- 
loe!  Ivanhoe  being  an  imaginary  character,  is, 
ntroduced  with  great  propriety  into  this  lanci- 
ul  sketch.  Ever,  etc. 


LETTER  XXXV. 

Poverty  of  Street-Nomenclature. — English  Climate. — Fire- 
Flies  and  Moschetoes. — Fox-hunting. — Playing  at  Deer 
Hunts.— Animal  Magnetism. -Slavery .—Mrs.  Trollope. 
— Ignorance. — Precedent. — Sandwich  Islands. — Democ- 
racy of  the  Anglo-Indian  Government 

London,  ,  1843. 

MY  DEAREST  JULIA  —  You  and  I  have  often 
aughed  at  the  poverty  of  invention  manifest  in 
naming  many  of  the  streets  in  American  cities ; 
t  certainly  is  a  ready,  but  very  commonplace 
way  of  distinguishing  them  to  adopt  the  letters 
of  the  alphabet,  or  the  figures  of  the  numeration 
table.  The  English  have  not  done  so;  they 
lave  no  "First"  or  "A"  streets,  but  their  no- 
menclature shows  equal  poverty.  Kings,  queens,, 
mnces,  and  common  Christian  names,  hav& 
)een  the  grand  resource  ;  the  John,  James,  Will- 
iam, George,  Charles,  and  Charlotte  streets  are 
so  numerous  that  they  require  the  adjuncts  of 
one  or  more  neighbouring  thoroughfares  or  well- 
to  observe  the  boldness  with  which  all  the  great  known  squares  to  designate  them  sufficiently,, 
people  are  quizzed—  the  initials  H.B.  are  attached  to  distinguish  Charles-street  of  Berkeley  from 
to  the  most  famous.  Certainly  the  Duke,  Lord  its  namesake  of  Grosvenor  Square— Princes- 
Brougham,  and  Lord  Morpeth,  have  no  reason  street  of  Hanover  from  the  same  of  Leicester 
to  accuse  these  waggish  artists  of  flattery.  Mr.  Square.  If  there  be  an  offspring,  or,  rather,  an 
O'Connell  is  another  unmistakeable  person ;  but  offshoot,  a  small  child-street,  as  ft  were,  from  a 


LETTERS   FROM 


John  or  William  street,  nothing  better  can  be 
thought  of  than  "  Little"  John  or  "  Little"  Will- 
iam street  —  "Jack"  or  "  Bill"  street  would  he 
in  stricter  analogy  with  the  example  to  be  fol- 
lowed ;  an  iteration  would  be  avoided. 

The  patrician  families  have  furnished  names 
in  abundance  to  squares  and  streets — Grosve- 
oor,  Belgrave,  Montague,  Cavendish,  Manches- 
ter, Portland,  Bedford,  and  a  host  of  others. 
The  British  warriors  have  given  appellations  to 
very  many  places,  the  statesmen  to  very  few. 
It  requires  an  advanced  state  of  education  and 
intelligence  for  the  people  to  regard  a  statesman 
as  equal  to  a  warrior ;  or  why  not  have  as  many 
Pitt  and  Fox,  as  Nelson  and  Wellington  streets 
or  squares  ?  After  the  philosophers,  sages, 
and  poets  of  England,  no  places  whatever  are 
called,  I  think.  A  few  might  be  very  eupho- 
niously denominated  after  either  the  late  or 
present  laureates.  Why  is  it  not  so  1  I  cannot 
tell,  unless  it  be  that  the  moneyed  people,  who 
speculate  in  new  rows,  terraces,  and  crescents 
(bricks  and  stucco  are  a  great  passion  with 
many),  rather  despise  than  otherwise  those  who 


ny  pi 
end  t 


ety,  virtue,  learning,  and  genius  to 
them.     Yet  Southey-street  satisfies 


have  only 

recomm 

the  ear  quite  as  agreeably  as  Smith-street : 

"  Write  them  together,  it  is  as  fair  a  name  ; 
Sound  them,  it  doth  become  the  month  as  well ; 
Weigh  them,  it  is  as  heavy ;  conjure  them, 
Southey  will  start  a  spirit  as  soon  as  Smith." 

One  might  have  felt  assured  the  English  would 
have  paid  some  such  compliment  to  Lord  Byron, 
peer  as  well  as  poet,  but  it  is  not  so. 

The  climate  of  this  country  is  far  better  than 
I  expected.  I  should  call  it  agreeable  upon  the 
whole,  its  rains  and  mists  notwithstanding ;  the 
English  themselves  grumble  more  about  it  than 
<}o  foreigners,  and  talk  of  "  outliving  the  sevi 


ng  the  severity 


of  the  May"  (a  jest,  I  suppose),  as  if  they  shiv- 
ered at  a  breeze  more  than  an  African  reared 
under  the  equator.  British  moonlight  (gas  and 
glare  generally  expel  it  from  the  streets  of  Lon- 
don) is  not  as  our  moonlight,  and  the  stars  look 
dim  compared  to  their  brilliancy  of  sheen  on  the 
other  side  of  the  Atlantic.  As  to  thunder-storms, 
I  was  told  that  a  former  ambassador  from  the 
United  States  to  this  court  said,  not  very  rev- 
erently, when  he  first  heard  thunder  in  London, 
"Thunder'?  tush  !  only  an  echo  of  it  from  over 
the  sea."  Thunder  is  sometimes  unheard  in 
the  busiest  parts  of  London  ;  the  street  noise 
overpowers  it. 

Those  awful  thunder-storms  in  America ! 
You  and  I  know  many  strong-minded  persons 
who  always  stand  awed  and  terrified  during  the 
peal  and  the  flash  ;  indeed,  we  have  been  in 
companies  where,  as  the  dreadful  pother  rolled 
over  our  heads,  each  one  might  have  received 
an  affirmative  answer  to  the  question  the  noble- 
man propounded  when  evil  tidings  were  abrupt- 
ly told  : 

"  Look  I  so  pale,  Lord  Dorset,  as  the  rest  ?" 

Mrs.  Mortimer,  who  is  very  fond  of  a  talk 
about  America,  often  expresses  her  envy  of  our 
possessing  the  fire-fly.  Much  as  I  admire  those 
dancing  sparkles,  I  would  willingly  sacrifice  my 
share  in  them,  and  give  them  all  ungrudgingly 
to  Great  Britain,  or  any  other  country,  if  the 
moschetoes  might  accompany  them  in  their 
dhange  of  seen*.  Imagine  the  consternation  of 


London  citizens,  aldermen  and  all,  were  a  few- 
regiments  of  armed  moschetoes  to  be  quartered 
upon  them  !  Great  Britain  and  Ireland  are  de- 
lightfully free  from  such  annoyances.  Venom- 
ous reptiles  are  almost,  and  dangerous  animals 
entirely,  unknown.  The  badger  and  the  otter, 
the  last  of  the  larger  wild  animals,  seem  almost 
extinct — there  is,  in  truth,  no  room  for  them  in 
minutely-cultivated  England ;  foxes,  no  doubt, 
are  numerous  enough,  for  they  are  preserved, 
that  gentlemen  may  hunt  them. 

I  have  heard  a  few  Americans  sneer  at  the 
English  fondness  for  fox-hunting,  and  call  it  a 
safe  and  even  effeminate  pursuit — it  is  nothing 
of  the  kind  ;  and  these  scoffers  seemed  to  forget 
that  the  island  enjoys  no  wolves  nor  ferocious 
beasts  of  prey.  The  British  gentlemen  have 
only  their  foxes,  but  I  am  very  sure  they  would 
hunt  anything;  indeed,  in  India  they  do  hunt 
tigers,  panthers,  and  lynxes.  Shakspeare, 
Thomson,  and  Cowper  have  taught  us  to  detest 
deer  and  hare  hunting  on  account  of  its  cruelty ; 
and  the  triumph  of  a  troop  of  men,  dogs,  and 
horses  in  the  death  of  a  harmless  animal  is  a 
paltry  one.  I  confess  I  have  not  the  same  feel- 
ings for  foxes  or  carnivorous  beasts,  hunters 
and  robbers  themselves  ;  there  seems  a  sort  of 
poetical  justice  in  their  fate  :  who  hunt,  in  their 
turn  shall  be  hunted. 

Stag-hunting  in  England  (and  the  Queen 
keeps  a  pack  of  stag-hounds,  some  nobleman 
being  chief  huntsman)  ;  stag-hunting,  I  say, 
does  appear  quite  indefensible :  such  a  mere 
playing  at  the  chase.  The  animal  is  not  to  be 
killed,  but  captured ;  he  is  only  to  endure  toil 
and  agony  for  the  pleasure  of  the  pursuers  ;  he 
is  not  roused  from  his  forest  lair,  but  is  put  out 
of  a  cart  and  allowed  so  many  minutes  start, 
and  taken  at  last  to  be  carted  back  to  his  park- 
home  to  yield  a  similar  amusement  some/o/- 
lowing  time.  Is  not  this  as  complete  a«playing 
at  wild-deer  hunting  as  if  it  was  in  an  eques- 
trian amphitheatre  1 

I  think  all  manly,  fatiguing,  out-door  amuse- 
ments conducive  to  manliness  of  character : 
the  'Squire  Western  class  is,  I  am  told,  quite 
extinct  in  England,  but  there  are  still  numbers 
as  much  attached  to  their  horses  and  dogs.  I 
remember  when  I  was  a  little  girl  reading  in 
some  odd  old  book  (how  well  one  can  recall 
passages  impressed  upon  youthful  memory)  this 
sentence,  or  one  closely  similar.  '  I  cannot  give 
you  the  obsolete  spelling,  though  : 

"  And  men  of  this  sylvan  Class  do  regard 
their  Horses  much  ;  the  Swiftness  of  an  Horse 
is  the  Matter  of  their  common  Talk;  yea,  the 
good  Quality  of  the  Animal  is  a  powerful  Mag- 
net to  draw  unto  him  these  rustic  Men's 
Loves." 

An  early  mention  of  Animal  Magnetism  ! 

I  was  once  remarking  how  free  England  was 
from  destructive  beasts.  "Yes,"  said  a  lady 
present,  "and  England  is  free  from  another 
thing — slaves  !"  At  least,  thought  I,  for  I  very 
rarely  argue,  unless  by  post,  they  do  not  call 
them  by  that  name  in  this  country.  I  have 
heard  silly  remarks  about  slavery  from  London 
ladies,  and  on  both  sides  of  the  question.  Mrs. 
Trollope,  in  a  fit  of  unaccustomed  candour,  has 
penned  this  passage : 

"  I  have  listened  to  much  dull  and  heavy  con- 
versation in  America,  but  rarely  to  any  that  I 


AN  AMERICAN  LADY. 


3! 


could  strictly  call  silly  (if  I  except  the  every- 
where privileged  class  of  very  young  ladies)." 

It  is  true  the  novelist  labours  hard  afterward, 
by  narrating  foolish  talk,  to  prove  the  reverse 
of  her  own  assertion,  still  she  ought  to  have  all 
honour  for  this  admission,  whether  made  through 
thoughtlessness  or  inadvertency,  or  not.  I  can- 
not conscientiously  say  so  much  of  English  con- 
versations, even  with  the  exception  made.  I 

was  asked  the  other  day  by  Mrs. ,  a  lady 

of  what  Mrs.  T.  would  call  high  standing,  "If 
the  United  States  were  as  well  wooded  as  Eng- 
land? Her  two  eldest  daughters,"  she  add- 
ed, "  had  a  little  debate  on  the  subject,  and  as 
the  younger  children's  governess  was  absent, 
she  could  not  be  referred  to." 

The  two  eldest  daughters  were  both  "  out," 
which  signifies  an  emancipation  from  school- 
dom,  an  attainment  of  age  and  knowledge  befit- 
ting the  young  lady  for  introduction  into  general 
society.  Don't  run  away  with  the  notion  that 
the  examples  I  have  given  prove  a  general  want 
of  information ;  but  I  do  think  that  the  young 
ladies  of  London  possess  more  of  showy  accom- 
plishment and  less  of  solid  knowledge  than  the 
same  class  in  New- York.  The  fashionable  edu- 
cation here  communicates  only  a  surface  of 
knowledge,  which  requires  youth  and  prettiness 
to  set  it  off  agreeably ;  but  afterward— Young 
English  ladies,  when  at  a  loss  what  to  say,  do 
smile  very  sweetly. 

I  do  not  wonder  that  you  express  amusement 
(I  will  refer  to  it,  since  I  am  on  the  subject)  that 
Mrs.  Trollope  should  represent  the  impossibility 
of  her  revisiting  America,  unless,  firstly,  Jona- 
than Jefferson  Whitlaw  were  forgotten ;  or,  sec- 
ondly, slavery  were  abolished  ;  or,  thirdly,  the 
Union  of  the  twenty-six  states  were  dis-sever- 
ed !  !  !  I  cannot  give  less  than  a  note  of  admi- 
ration to  each  "category,"  as  Cooper's  captain 
would  call  them.  The  good  lady  seems  to  ima- 
gine that  any  one  of  those  occurrences  would 
form  an  equally  important  era  in  the  history  of 
the  United  States.  "How  we  apples  swim!" 
the  quotation  is  somewhat  musty,  and  it  may  not 
be  proper  to  call  a  famous  English  novelist  a 
crab,  but  let  it  pass. 

I  cannot  say  I  have  ever  heard  any  feasible 
plan  for  the  abolition  of  Negro  slavery  in  Amer- 
ica prescribed  by  those  who  are  most  indignant 
upon  its  horrors ;  by  those  who  apparently 
think  they  have,  to  use  a  Yankee  phrase,  an  el- 
oquence-privilege ;  this  is  as  if  a  physician 
should  execrate  a  disease,  and  prescribe  no 
cure.  The  English  cannot  very  decently  advo- 
cate the  total  and  gratuitous  manumission  of  the 
slaves,  they  have  no  precedent  for  such  a  meas- 
ure, as  their  own  government  bought  negro  free- 
dom ;  so  the  declamation  contents  them,  and  the 
remedy  they  have  yet  to  find.  For  one,  I  fer 
vently  hope  that  a  remedy,  and  an  equitable  one, 
may  soon  be  discovered. 

You  think  I  say  much  on  this  force  of  prece 
dent,  and  so  I  may,  for  life  has  often  been  sacri 
ficqri  to  it.  When  George  the  Third,  to  go  no 
farther  back,  used  to  be  solicited  to  spare  the 
lives  of  persons  condemned  to  death  for  for- 
gery, what  was  the  reasoning  1  "  Impossible — 
many  men  and  some  women  have  been  hanged 
for  the  offence  for  which  it  is  prayed  this  man 
be  pardoned  ;  and  if  he  be  pardoned,  were  no 
they  murdered  V  And  so  men  were  hangec 
L 


for   precedent's   sake !     This  was   one  of  the 

impossibles"  of  a  former  day,  not  a  jot  more 
absurd  than  many  insisted  upon  now. 

An  odd  notion  seems  entertained  here,  that  if 
an  American  lady  care  anything  for  English  pol- 
tics  (happily  for  my  repose,  I  care  very  little), 
she  must  necessarily  be  more  attached  to  the 
Whig  than  the  Tory  party :  she  must  first  un- 
derstand the  difference,  and  this  is  not  very  easy, 
or  there  is  no  broad  line  of  demarcation.  Nei- 
ther party  seems  bigoted,  but  occasionally  takes 
a  lesson  from  its  opponents,  and  we  hear  oft 
enough  of  conservative  Whigs  and  liberal  To- 
es ;  their  respective  views,  like  those  at  the 
Polytechnic  exhibition,  dissolve  occasionally 
ne  into  the  other. 

Not  long  since,  I  saw  a  brief  paragraph  in  one 
of  the  papers,  to  the  effect  that  the  Sandwich 
"slands  had  been  ceded  to  her  Britannic  Majes- 
y,  and  taken  possession  of  by  one  of  her  frig- 
ates. I  rather  wondered  at  this  piece  of  news, 
or  the  intercourse  of  the  United  States  with, 
hose  islands  is  far  beyond  that  of  any  European 
power  ;  the  American  whale-ships  visiting  them 
•ery  frequently,  while  our  countrymen  have 
been  the  principal  agents  in  introducing  Chris- 
ianity..  The  same  evening  some  member  asked 
Sir  Robert  Peel  in  the  House  of  Commons  if 
he  accounts  of  this  cession  were  correct.  The 
ninister  answered  in  the  negative  :  no  farther 
explanation  was  asked  or  given,  and  the  whole 
matter  was  so  coolly  treated,  as  if  it  had  been, 
equally  meritorious  to  take  those  islands  or  leave 
,hem  free.  Had  Sir  Robert  deemed  it  a  thing 
of  any  importance  one  way  or  the  other,  he 
.vould  most  probably — his  custom  on  a  question 
— have  retired  into  the  pompous  secrecy  of  his 
official  station,  and  said  that  it  might  be  preju- 
dicial to  the  interests  of  her  majesty's  govern- 
ment to  yield  the  Hon.  Member  the  information, 
be  sought.  We  have  long  since  heard  of  the 

pride  of  place  .-"  its  reserve  seems  now  as  re- 
markable in  England.  Some  of  the  papers  sneer- 
ed at  the  Hawaian  envoys  protesting  from  Paris 
against  this  "  appropriation"  of  their  master's 
kingdom.  In  my  mind  it  ill  becomes  any  one  of 
any  party  in  a  free  country  to  scoff  at  the  wish 
for  independence,  which  another  community,  no 
matter  how  small,  may  manifest.  How  would 
t  sound  now  if  a  foreign  chronicler  of  the  thir- 
teenth century,  when  telling  of  Magna  Charta 
wrung  from  the  most  unworthy  of  the  Plantag- 
enets,  had  ridiculed  a  wish  for  freedom  of  any 
kind  in  the  inhabitants  of  half  an  island  !  Per- 
haps I  ought  hardly  to  say  inhabitants,  for  the 
Great  Charter  benefited  the  serfs  nothing. 

These  agents  from  the  Sandwich  Islands  gov- 
ernment are  visiting  the  different  courts  of  Eu- 
rope to  obtain  a  formal  recognition  of  the  inde- 
pendence of  the  islands  ;  the  United  States  have 
already  made  the  acknowledgment.  The  re- 
cent conquest  and  annexation  of  Scinde  must  be 
a  sufficient  sop  (a  vulgar  word,  but  I  do  not  re- 
member another  equally  expressive)  to  satisfy 
the  British  government  for  a  while,  and  induce 
it  to  stay  its  forward  step  towards  increase  of 
territory.  Is  it  Mr.  Alison  who  makes  a  pro- 
found remark  about  the  expansive  and  aggres- 
sive principle  or  propensity  of  democracy — or 
something  like  that  1  No  doubt  the  Anglo-In- 
dian government  is  a  pure  democracy.  *  * 
The  time  approaches,  dear  Julia,  when  I  must 


LETTERS   FROM 


return,  and  it  seems  to  approach  so  rapidly.  I 
look  forward  to  it  with  mingled  dread  and  de- 
light— dread,  for  there  is  the  parting  with  my 
kind  English  friends,  whom  I  shall  probably 
never  see  again;  delight  to  regain  home  and 
you.  "  Farewell"  sounds  sadly,  but  it  is 
word  that  must  be  and  hath  been." 

P.S.  You  tell  me  Lord  Morpeth  won  golden 
opinions  from  all  sorts  of  Americans ;  he  is 
highly  esteemed  by  his  own  countrymen,  and 
seems,  indeed,  a  model  of  an  English  nobleman, 
or  rather  gentleman,  which  is  the  nobler  title. 
It  is  to  be  hoped  there  are  many  such,  the  very 
salt  of  the  aristocracy— the  Attic  salt,  if  you  will. 
I  was  told  by  an  excellent  judge  that  his  speech 
at  the  recent  Anti-Slavery  Meeting  was  admi- 
rable in  all  respects ;  in  tone,  sentiments,  and 
delivery.  I  have  heard  some  of  the  English  ex- 
press surprise  that  so  few  of  the  dignitaries  of 
their  church  took  a  prominent  part  in  anti- 
slavery  measures ;  perhaps  they  have  not  time. 
1  told  you  about  Puseyism — to  all  appearance  it 
holds  its  own  (to  use  a  Scotticism),  and  even 
gains  from  other  people's.  A  number  of  Oxford 
divines  and  fellows  of  colleges  expostulated  by 
formal  letter  to  the  vice-chancellor,  that  Dr. 
Pusey  was  suspended  without  a  hearing  in  his 
defence — a  venerable  Oxford  fashion.  One  gen- 
tleman also  writes  to  the  Times  to  give  infor- 
mation about  his  own  preaching,  after  this  man- 
ner, of  "  Laud,  the  martyred  archbishop,  who,  let 
us  trust,  still  intercedes  for  this  church,  whose 
enemies  he  resisted  unto  death,"  etc.  A  step, 
a  little  step  onward,  and  the  Rev.  T.  E.  Morris, 
of  Christ  Church,  Oxford,  and  his  flock  might 
offer  up  orisons  to  a  second  St.  Thomas  of  Can- 
terbury, and  say,  "  Ora  pro  nobis.'1  Those  prel- 
ates who  have  an  inclination  towards  Puseyism, 
at  any  rate  those  who  wish  to  restore  many  an- 
cient customs,  have  never,  that  I  have  heard  of, 
expressed  any  desire  to  re-establish  a  practice 
long  existent  in  the  earlier  ages  of  Christianity, 
the  election  of  bishops  by  acclamation. 

Ever,  etc. 


LETTER  XXXVI. 

Gaming-houses. — Personal  Character  of  the  Sovereign. — 
Royal  Dinner-table  Etiquette. — Temperance  Societies. — 
Modern  Works.— Pyramids.— A  Soiree— A  Shadow.— 
Macaulay's  "  Lays."— Wealth-worship. 

London, ,  1843. 

DEAREST  JULIA— I  have  often  thought  that 
axiom  of  Burke,  "  vice,  by  losing  all  its  gross- 
ness,  loses  half  its  evil,"  to  be  more  than  half  a 
fallacy ;  indeed,  vice  in  such  a  guise  seems  to 
me  doubly  reprehensible,  for  it  has  ceased  to  be 
repulsive.  I  trust  it  will  be  long  before  wicked- 
ness in  the  United  States  assume  the  names  of 
pleasure  and  refinement,  or  even  the  appearance 
of  them — before  it  lose  the  horrid  look  of  wicked- 
ness. I  have  heard  Mr.  Griffiths  say,  and  he 
eeems  to  have  a  knowledge  of  such  places  inti- 
mate enough  to  make  his  family  uneasy,  that  in 
the  gaming-houses,  or  club-houses  where  gaming 
is  practised  in  London,  which  are  the  resort  of 
the  higher  classes,  all  was  fair  and  honourable  : 
intoxication  was  hardly  known,  nor  would  the 
slightest  advantage  be  taken  of  any  gentleman 
who  might  he  flushed  with  wine  :  that,  in  short, 
in  these  club  or  gaming  rooms,  there  was  as 


much  safety  and  security  from  sharpers  as  in  a- 
friend's  private  drawing-room.  It  may  be  so, 
but  gentlemen  are  ruined  in  those  places  every 
now  and  then  for  all  this  honourableness. 

I  have  seen  it  mentioned  in  some  papers,  and 
rather  as  a  matter  of  pride,  that  in  London,  even 
in  the  crowded  haunts  of  the  profligate*  and  at 
all  hours,  property  was  safe,  robberies  being  very 
unfrequent.  This  may  be  so  likewise,  and  what 
does  it  all  prove  ?  A  doubly  dangerous  state  of 
society,  because  one  in  which  vice  seems  to  en- 
joy the  immunity  of  virtue — dissipation  of  order 
and  decorum. 

It  is  matter  of  cool  remark  here,  that  the  per- 
sonal character  and  habits  of  the  monarch  were 
of  great  importance,  not  in  the  nice  adjustment 
or  delicate  management  of  the  state  machine 
(towards  which,  in  troth,  the  character  of  the 
Sovereign  personally  seems  of  singularly  little 
moment),  but  in  its  influence  on  morals,  man- 
ners, and  tastes.  The  domestic  virtues  of  the 
present  queen  and  her  consort  being  a  model 
that  all  her  subjects  may  study  and  imitate,  is 
said  to  have  produced  a  beneficial  effect  upon 
society.  Now,  it  appears  to  me,  that  cannot  be 
a  very  commendable  institution  in  a  Christian, 
land  which  gives  such  power  to  the  example  of 
any  one,  any  frail  being  of  mortal  clay,  though 
called  "  Majesty"  in  the  respect,  and  "  most  re- 
ligious and  gracious  king"  in  the  prayers,  of  his 
people  ;  but  such  a  thought  never  occurs  to  the 
English. 

I  would  describe  the  queen  more  particularly 
to  you,  but  really  I  think  portraits  of  her  majesty- 
are  or  were  as  common  in  New- York  as  here  ;  in 
how  many  a  room  does  she  hang  side  by  side  with 
one  whom  her  grandsire  little  loved  1  Wonder- 
ful in  England,  as  well  as  in  America,  is  the  in- 
genuity displayed  in  misrepresenting  her  pretti- 
ness.  The  Duchess  of  Kent  is  a  stately-looking 
lady,  much  taller  than  her  daughter.  The  queen 
dowager,  although  six  years  younger,  looks  older 
than  the  duchess,  I  think  ;  but  then  she  is  sl»mr 
and  has  the  air  of  infirm  health.  The  King  of 
Hanover,  who  is  now  in  England,  is  a  tall,  offi- 
cerlike  man.  I  suppose  here  it  might  be  ac- 
counted republican  or  mauvais  ton  in  me  were  I 
to  express  my  opinion  that  he  would  look  better 
shaven.  I  once  saw  the  Duchess  of  Cambridge 
and  her  family,  in  a  private  box  at  Covent  Garden- 
Theatre  ;  the  Princess  Augusta  of  Cambridge 
(lately  married  to  a  duke  of  the  great  German 
family)  is  embonpoint  and  good-humoured  look- 
ing. It  is  seldom  royalty  is  seen  in  the  na- 
tional theatres  ;  why  the  Opera  House  is  pre- 
ferred I  cannot  presume  to  say — its  amusements 
are  (undeniably,  I  think)  more  sensual  than  in- 
tellectual, and  therefore  of  a  grosser  nature. 
The  royal  party,  when  I  saw  them,  seemed  to- 
enjoy  themselves  much,  for  they  laughed  very 
heartily.  This  is  not  always,  indeed  not  often 
the  case,  with  your  elegant  aristocrats ;  for  in 
public  places  it  is  common  to  see  them,  really 
or  affectedly,  listless  and  indifferent,  hardly  to 
deign  a  passing  notice  of  the  amusement  Ifcey 
have  assembled  to  witness.  I  have  known 
their,  not  sotto  voce,  conversation  mar  the  enjoy- 
ment of  those  near  them,  but  this  demeanour 
seems  to  be  considered  the  very  acme  of  refine- 
ment; it  is,  indeed,  refinement  pushed  up  to  rude- 
ness ;  something  on  the  same  principle,  I  might 
se  told,  as  becoming  "dark  with  excessive 


AN    AMERICAN    LADY. 


-bright" — coarse  with  excessive  fine.  These 
may  be  occasionally  the  manners  of  lords — they 
are  never  those  of  gentlemen. 

The  "  beau"  of  a  former  age  is  no  more ;  some 
•of  them  must  have  been  magnificent  creatures 
— coxcombs  on  so  large  a  scale.  Is  it  not  in 
the  "  Spectator"  there  is  mention  of  a  hero  of 
this  class,  who  called  for  his  tea  by  beat  of  drum, 
and  tor  his  shaving  water  by  sound  of  trumpet  1 
How  agreeable  a  neighbour  ! 

I  mentioned  to  you  in  a  former  letter,  I  think, 
how  dinners,  or  rather  dinners  in  royal  palaces, 
were  chronicled.  I  have  often  wondered  that 
it  does  not  please  her  majesty  to  command  to 
.her  dinner-table  (for  it  is  called  a  command) 
those  whose  attainments  in  literature,  art,  and 
science  give  lustre  to  her  reign ;  their  conver- 
sation, whether  playful  or  profound  in  its  tone, 
must  have  a  perfectly  magic  charm  for  a  highly- 
educated  circle.  I  remember  once  to  have  seen 
the  name  of  Mr.  Rogers,  and  once  that  of  Mr. 
Hallam,  as.her  majesty's  guests  ;  and  I  am  told 
a  similar  honour  was  once  conferred  upon  Sir 
Lytton  Bulwer,  but  these  seem  only  to  prove 
the  exceptions.  If  etiquette  restrict  the  society 
in  the  palace  to  mere  rank  and  office,  how  ab- 
surd, how  unworthy  of  a  rational  being's  regard, 
must  be  an  etiquette  that  denies  to  the  queen 
such  choice,  such  pure  intellectual  gratifica- 
tions. 

Often  in  this  country,  when  I  have  expressed 
surprise  at  what  seemed  to  me  strange  or  un- 
called for  about  a  Court,  or  even  in  Parliament 
and  public  places,  I  have  been  told,  "  O  !  but  it's 
the  etiquette — etiquette  prevents  its  being  other- 
wise." No  more  was  to  be  said.  I  was  si- 
lenced, as  is  often  the  case,  but  not  convinced. 
The  matter  might  be  agreeable  to  the  rules  of 
-etiquette,  but  I  felt  not  in  accordance  with  those 
of  common  sense  and  reason,  and  I  thought  it 
pity  a  French  word  should  be  in  their  way  ;  that 
etiquette  is  often  indispensable  in  private,  and 
much  more  in  public  society,  it  were  absurd  to 
deny  ;  but,  like  many  other  things  necessary  in 
society — speech,  for  instance,  it  may  be  and  is 
carried  to  wasteful  and  ridiculous  excess. 

The  Temperance  Societies  here  had  proces- 
sions, similar,  I  imagine,  to  those  in  American 
cities,  on  Whit-Monday.  I  can  understand  why, 
in  a  society  formed  to  promote  habits  of  tem- 
perance, the  members  must  frequently  meet  and 
have  rules,  and  regulations,  and  proper  officers, 
and  be  amenable  to  the  ancient  sage  called  Dis- 
cipline. I  can  understand  also  that  it  may  be 
proper  to  have  badges  or  insignia,  which,  as  a 
mark  of  disgrace,  must  be  taken  from  those  de- 
linquents for  whom  alcohol  has  proved  too  pow- 
erful in  its  temptation  or  effects  ;  but  the  utility 
of  those  processions  I  cannot  understand.  Is  it 
that  nowadays  people  cannot  do  what  they 
consider  right  without  making  a  fuss  about  it — 
.a  public  one  too  I  Or  is  it  a  necessity  of  hu- 
man nature  that,  one  stimulant  abandoned,  an- 
other must  be  adopted  ;  that  display  with  music, 
banners,  and  ribands,  must  replace  the  excite- 
ment of  conviviality1? 

I  wonder  what  Boswell  would  have  thought 
of  these  associations.  Would  he  have  admired 
them  as  he  did  Johnson,  when  that  philosopher 
formed  a  sort  of  temperance  society  in  his  own 
person  ?  Boswell  admits  that,  being  a  lover  of 
wine,  he  was  curious  to  hear  whatever  was  re- 


markable concerning  drinking  ;  and  so  he  might 
be  curious  about  the  results  of  water- drinking 
— that  is,  in  other  people.  I  remember  once  in 

New-York — it   was  at  Mr.  's,  in  Hudson 

Square— hearing  our  host  call  Boswell  a  milk- 
and-water  gentleman  (as  to  his  mental  attributes 
of  course,  not  in  his  earthly  beverage) ;  another 
pronounced  him  more  water  than  milk.  I 
thought  both  remarks  far  too  severe  ;  indeed,  I 
know  no  biographer  to  whom  the  world  has  been 
so  much  indebted  as  to  James  Boswell. 

I  remember  seeing  in  the  street  (I  was  in  a 
carriage  at  the  time),  just  before  the  temperance 
procession  appeared,  a  fire-engine  with  its  two 
fine  horses  tearing  along  at  a  frantic  pace :  I 
thought  if  the  vehicle  had  come  rather  suddenly 
amid  the  decorated  corps  marching  soberly  along, 
how  it  would  have  scattered  them,  displaced  the 
ranks,  and  broke  the  good  meeting ;  those  fire- 
engineers  (if  I  may  call  them  so)  do  gallop  on 
as  if  London  streets  were  proper  for  chariot- 
races—there  is  no  dallying  with  them— no  halt- 
ing— 

"  See  !  there  they  come  racing  and  tearing, 
esisfili'd; 


All  the  street  with  loud  voices 
ih  !  it's  only  the  firemen  a-swearing 
At  a  man  they've  run  over  and  kill'd 


Temperance  societies  in  Ireland  count  their 
members  by  thousands ;  Father  Mathew  has 
wrought  miracles  among  them.  I  am  told,  in- 
deed, that  scoffers  have  said  the  Hibernian  peas- 
antry actually  believe  the  good  father  to  be  a 
saint,  and  to  have  powers  surpassing  those  of 
mere  mortality  ;  if  it  be  so,  it  is  a  rare  and  cu- 
rious instance  of  superstition  directed  to  most 
blessed  uses. 

Any  one  expecting  to  find  in  England  modern 
public  works  impressive  from  their  magnitude, 
may  at  first  feel  disappointed  ;  yet  they  exist  on 
all  sides,  but  are  so  mixed  up  with  every-day 
uses  that  they  become  regarded  as  things  of 
every  day  :  they  do  not  "  dwell  apart,"  like  the 
Pyramids,  for  instance,  which  address  them- 
selves immediately  to  the  eye,  and  have  no  con- 
nexion with  the  work-a-day  world  to  blend  them 
with  its  littleness.  The  great  modern  works  in 
England  are  docks,  bridges,  and  railroads  ;  rail- 
roads can  only  be  seen  in  portions,  in  minute 
details,  while  the  Pyramid  of  Cheops  is  beheld 
at  once  and  in  completeness  ;  and  which  is  the 
greater  work  1  a  railway  of  two  or  three  hun- 
dred miles,  or  that  "  labour  of  an  age  in  piled 
stones  ;"  that  monument  of  industry  ill  applied  ' 
I  wonder  some  of  the  travelling  English  anti- 
quaries, leaving  the  well-trodden  European  path, 
do  not  resort  to  the  New  World  ;  the  enthusias- 
tic in  pyramids  would  find  Cheops  out-cheopped, 
and  might  discover  other  architectural  marvels. 

I  once  heard  Mr. ,  who  has  inspected  both, 

declare  that  the  base  of  a  great  pyramid  (I  for- 
get its  name,  and  it's  probably  unspeDable),  east 
of  Cholula,  in  Mexico,  was,  from  actual  men- 
suration, about  twice  that  of  the  great  Egyptian 
one. 

I  have  jumped  off  at  a  tangent  to  Africa  and 
America  ;  "  revenons  &  nos  moutons,"  the  Eng- 
lish and  their  works.  There  is  nothing  in  Lon- 
don at  all  comparable  to  the  Croton  Aqueduct. 
The  London  waterworks  are  no  doubt  very 
surprising  ;  but  there  is  nothing  to  be  seen ;  the 
water  slinks  into  the  city,  as  it  were,  in  a  sur- 
reptitious manner.  Public  fountains  are  almost 


LETTERS    FROM 


unknown ;  the  few  there  are  being  so  paltry 
that  a  Frenchman  pitied  the  water  degraded  to 
their  use  !  He  was  probably  fresh  from  Ver- 
sailles. In  some  districts  there  are  complaints 
of  the  badness  of  the  water,  that  it  is  unfit  for 
any  purposes  but  those  of  cooking  or  washing ; 
this  might  have  been  remedied  long  ago  did  not 
so  many  believe  that  water  could  be  wanted  for 
no  other  purposes. 

I  forgot  to  tell  you  that  Mrs.  Guy's  soiree  was 
crowded ;  the  arrangements  differed  little  from 
what  we  have  seen  in  similar  parties  in  New- 
York.  I  left  early,  for  the  display  of  tasteless 
wealth  is  always  tiresome.  There  were  two 
Scottish  ladies  at  the  soiree;  a  recent  arrival; 
one  very  tall  and  the  other  very  short,  whom 
Mrs.  Guy  introduced  to  some  of  her  lady-guests, 
and  soon  after  the  ceremony  whispered  an  inti- 
mation that  they  were  "  so  literary."  The 
worthy  hostess  looked  proud  and  patronising  as 
she  advanced  for  the  purpose  of  introduction, 
with  a  lady  in  each  hand,  "  the  blue  above  and 
the  blue  below  ;•'  the  ladies  themselves  seemed 
half-ashamed  of  being  thus  lionized. 

Mr.  Guy  has  now  many  English  friends  ;  one 
in  especial  he  has  grappled  to  his  soul  with 
hooks  of  congenial  sympathies  and  tastes  :  this 
gentleman  is  a  Mr.  S.,  so  rich,  his  friend  avers, 
that  "he  could  not  count  his  money  in  dollars 
from  last  fall  to  next  century."  The  gentleman 
is  also  a  stout  gentleman,  very  tightly  packed 
(to  the  credit  of  valet  or  tailor,  or  both)  in  very 
handsome  attire  ;  he  eschews  such  English  as 
men  write  in  quarterly  reviews.  "  Not  eggsact- 
ually,"  he  says,  and  says  it  with  a  look  of  hu- 
mour, where  an  ordinary  man  might  say,  "  not 
exactly ;"  but  why  repeat  these  abstrusities  to 
a  distant  young  lady  ?  Imagine  them,  then,  dear 
Julia,  for  they  come  not  within  my  powers  of 
panegyric.  Mr.  S.  regretted,  or  rather  insinua- 
ted a  regret,  of  his  most  delicate  organization  ; 
his  feebleness  of  health  ;  he  is  but  the  shadow, 
he«declares,  on  the  authority  of  his  physician, 
of  what  he  was :  poor  man,  very  much  of  a 
shadow  he  presents. 

Two  or  three  gentlemen  at  this  soirie  were 
talking  of  Macaulay's  Lays  of  Ancient  Rome, 
•which  they  praised  greatly. 

"  A  most  difficult  form  of  composition,"  said 
Dr.  R.,  "for  there  is  no  room  in  it  for  weak 
lines,  or  even  weak  words  ;  the  ballad  is  a  short 
effort,  but  the  strength  required  to  make  it  must 
not  be  a  moment  relaxed.  I  would  far  rather 
be  tasked  to  write  a  poem  like  The  Deserted 
Village,  than  a  song  like  Chevy  Chase." 

lo  Mr.  Macaulay's  work  (I  wish  he  would 
write  Lays  of  Ancient  Britain),  the  poem  tell- 
ing 

"  How  well  Horatins  kept  the  bridge, 

In  the  brave  days  of  old," 
seemed  most  admired  by  Dr.  R.  and  his  friend. 

Emma  Wilderton  told  me  afterward  that 
Mr.  Guy  and  his  Pythias  walked  to  a  part  of  the 
room  where  she  was  seated,  and  were  laughing 
at  the  taste  and  criticism  I  have  mentioned.  "  So 

low,"  Mr.  S said,  "about  some  stiff  fellow, 

eh,  ha !  I  say,  seemeringly,  eh  !  who  kept  a 
toll-bridge— Putney,  perhaps,  as  it  was  in  the 
old  times,  eh,  I  say,  ha !" 

These  gentlemen  said  never  a  word  while 
tb  >  conversation  was  carried  on.  I  think  there 
a  an  instinct  in  dunces,  which  prevents  their 


speaking  when  it  is  not  safe;  something  like 
that  which  confines  the  owl  to  its  shelter  to 
avoid  exposure  in  the  sunshine,  or  prevents  an 
ass  walking  into  a  flower-garden. 

That  I  detail  to  you  more  foolish  than  wise 
sayings  is  easily  accounted  for :  I  hear  more ; 
and  the  same  may  be  said,  I  fancy,  of  most 
general  society  in  most  countries  ;  the  silly  are 
far  greater,  numerically,  than  the  sage.  In 
England,  I  do  think  it  is  especially  so,  because 
money  is  permitted  to  exonerate  its  possessors 
(an1  it  so  please  them)  from  all  trouble  in  the 
acquisition  of  wisdom  or  learning — it  is  acknowl- 
edged on  all  hands  to  be  better  than  either. 
Well,  the  English  are  a  free  people,  and  have  a 
right  to  please  themselves  in  the  matter  :  to  be 
sure  the  world  laughs  at  them  ;  but  as  their  own 
affluences  might  say,  while  they  chinked  their 
London  gold,  "  Let  them  laugh — let  all  other 
people  laugh  as  loud  and  as  long  as  they  please 
— ice  can  show  them  plenty  to  laugh  at — we  can 
afford  it."  The  poor,  albeit,  tind  this  idolatry, 
this  wealth-worship,  no  laughing  matter. 

I  meant  to  have  told  you  before  that  I  some- 
times half  feel  as  if  I  ought — only  I  should  be  so 
puzzled  how  to  offer  an  apology  to  you — as  if  I 
ought  to  apologize,  for  sometimes  telling  you  of 
customs  or  institutions  in  this  country,  which 
may  be  found  in  almost  the  same  state  with  us. 
I  do  it  to  let  you  see  it  is  so  ;  one  may  be  privi- 
leged in  a  friendly  letter,  but  I  can  hardly  under- 
stand why  some  ponderous  authors  in  erudite 
works  undergo  much  toil  and  pains  (to  say  no- 
thing of  exposing  the  reader  to  them)  in  detailing 
as  characteristics  of  the  United  States  many 
fashions  and  practices  which  a  very  little  inqui- 
ry would  have  shown  existed  in  the  same  con- 
dition of  life  in  their  own  land — to  be  sure  with- 
out these  auxiliary  topics  the  work  might  not 
have  had  its  full  complement  of  pages. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Guy  start  for  Edinburgh  to- 
morrow or  the  following  day.  Mr.  Guy  is  the 
better  reconciled  to  this  change  of  "location," 
as  his  esteemed  Mr.  S.  has  left  town  for  Paris, 
in  order  to  consult  some  eminent  physician 
there ;  he  was  recommended  to  do  so  by  a  gen- 
tleman just  returned  from  a  Continental  tour, 
whom  he  met  at  a  club  in  Pall  Mall.  "  A  fa- 
mous French  doctor,"  the  Pythias  said,  "who 
beat  everything  and  everybody."  I  hope  his 
wife,  if  he  have  one,  is  not  included.  This 
shadow  of  a  wit,  according  to  Mr.  Guy's  ac- 
count, was  in  such  a  hurry  to  tempt  the  perils 
of  the  straits  from  Dover  to  Calais,  that  time 
hardly  sufficed  to  say  adieu  to  the  friend  of  his 
soul, 

"  And  he  was  left  lamenting." 

Ever,  etc. 


LETTER  XXXVII. 

Law. — Delays. — English  Chnractpri-tics. — Charity. — Edu- 
cation.—Unamiability.— Ruin.—  Foreien  Grievances.— 
Refinement — Ladies  of  England. — Conclusion. 

London, ,  1843. 

DEAHEST  JCLIA — Moliere  had  not,  I  believe, 
the  prejudices  against  lawyers  which  he  enter- 
tained towards  the  men  of  medicine,  whose  art, 
according  to  the  satirical  rogue,  "  consisted  in 
pompous  bombast,  or  a  plausible  babble  which 
gave  words  for  reasons"  (a  custom  still  preva- 
lent, especially  among  politicians),  "  and  pronv 


AX   AMERICAN   LADY. 


85 


ises  for  effects"  (a  custom,  in  like  manner,  more 
prevalent  still) ;  but  the  great  dramatist  makes 
one  of  his  characters  exclaim,  "  La  seule  pensee 
d'un  proces  seroit  capable  de  me  faire  fuir  jus- 
qu'aux  Indes."  I  can  well  sympathize  in  this 
sentiment :  that  is,  were  a  flight  to  Hindostan 
or  another  lawsuit  to  be  the  alternative,  I  think 
I  should  prefer  the  shores  of  the  Ganges  to  the 
Courts  at  Westminster. 

It  is  remarkable  that  ameliorations  in  the  civil 
laws  of  this  country,  or,  rather,  in  their  admin- 
istration, should  be  so  tardy.  I  presume  it  is  to 
be  accounted  for  from  the  fact,  which  is  stated 
on  right  good  authority,  with  experience  to  back 
it,  that  lawyers  never  believe  anything  which  is 
customary  to  be  ridiculous  or  unnecessary  ; 
while  we'have  it  on  equally  good  authority,  that 
too  many  lawyers  are  also  law-makers.  Hence 
I  suppose  all  these  delays— delays  tiresome  and 
unintelligible,  as  if  the  judges  still  followed  the 
king's  person  to  administer  the  law  ;  where  was 
the  king  in  person,  there  was  the  court  of  law, 
now  and  then,  it  might  be,  of  justice.  Do  you 
remember  how  Mrs.  Ritever,  who  had  never 
left  her  father's  and  husband's  estates  in  South 
Carolina,  sturdily  expressed  her  belief  that  it 
was  impossible  things  could  go  on  properly  in 
any  country  without  a  multitude  of  negroes? 
The  principle  is  that  of  the  lawyers  here  :  they 
deem  it  "  impossible"  that  law  can  exist  proper- 
ly without  its  multitude  of  procrastinations  and 
senilities.  Improvements  have  certainly  been 
effected,  and  to  what  extent?  As  if  people 
should  cleverly  dam  a  portion  of  one  side  of  a 
river,  which  not  unfrequently  and  most  preju- 
dicially overflowed  both  its  banks  through  its 
course.  Needless  delay  is  rank  injustice ;  to 
talk  of  the  necessity  of  delay  is  often  absolute 
nonsense.  Napoleon  dwelt  upon  the  "  necessi- 
ty" of  sacrificing  a  few  tens  of  thousands  of 
lives  annually.  Necessity  is  too  commonly  the 
pleS  when  reason  exists  not. 

The  more  I  have  seen  of  this  country — I  must 
tell  it  you  in  my  last  letter — the  more  I  am  con- 
vinced I  have  described  it  truly.  That  selfish- 
ness is  the  bane  of  the  Englishman's  character 
generally  is,  1  think,  undeniable — he  lives  for 
little  but  himself — while  equally  undeniable  is  it 
that  this  very  selfishness  leads  to  great  results. 
When  men  have  overweening  notions  of  their 
individual  superiority,  it  is  common  and  natural 
for  them  to  endeavour  to  act  up  to  their  preten- 
sions ;  the  selfishness  which  makes  them  cold, 
unamiable,  and  uncharitable,  little  susceptible 
of  the  softer  affections,  and  derisive  of  virtue 
and  genius  in  others  (because  loath  to  admit 
an  inferiority  in  themselves),  makes  them  also 
bold,  persevering,  and  wary,  when  personal  ad- 
vantages are  to  be  acquired  ;  steadily  bent  upon 
attaining  wealth,  power,  and  station,  not  so 
much  from  ambition,  but  because  they  believe 
such  attainments  no  more  than  the  proper  meeds 
of  their  transcendent  merits.  Indeed,  this  feel- 
ing, firmly  implanted,  may  be  worked  upon  so 
as  to  accomplish  almost  anything  when  individ- 
ual aggrandizement  is  expected  to  follow.  How 
could  soldiers  fail,  if  each  in  his  secret  soul 
thought  himself  a  Wellington  (that  is,  had  he 
his  deserts),  and  if  his  actions  were  the  fruits 
of  his  belief?  The  American's  self- pride  is  of 
a  nobler  cast,  for  it  is  more  of  his  country,  her 
glory,  and  her  prowess. 


Of  the  superior  intelligence  of  the  mass  in 
America  there  can  be  no  doubt,  for  the  care  be- 
stowed upon  general  education,  with  the  uni- 
versality and  cheapness  of  books  and  newspa- 
pers, must  ensure  it ;  it  is  proved,  moreover, 
by  the  fact,  that  while  almost  all  Americans 
familiarly  understand  almost  all  English  ques- 
tions, literary  or  political,  the  English  (I  speak 
of  the  body  of  the  people)  understand  the  nature 
of  the  politics  and  literature  of  the  United  States 
as  thoroughly  as  they  do  those  of  the  Mountain- 
eers of  the  Moon.  I  find  it  is  not  very  uncom- 
mon in  this  country  to  republish  American 
books,  or  magazine  articles,  as  original,  disguis- 
ing them  generally  with  the  false  complexions 
of  new  titles,  etc.  In  American  reprints,  the 
English  writer  at  least  enjoys  his  name  and 
fame  ;  and  it  cannot  be  otherwise,  for  an  "  ap- 
propriation" would  soon  be  detected  and  ex- 
posed. Sometimes  the  reputation  of  a  British 
author  has  been  first  established  in  America 
(Carlyle  and  Marryat  are  instances),  and  echoed 
back  to  the  parent  country.  "  The  child,"  says 
Wordsworth,  "  is  father  to  the  man ;"  in  these 
instances  his  preceptor  also. 

I  \vas  soon  disabused,  when  I  came  to  reside 
in  England,  of  the  notion  that  they  were  a 
charitable  people.  Praise  cannot  be  sufficiently 
rendered  to  the  comparative  few  who  are  so ; 
but  the  mass  of  the  English,  of  the  mere  rich 
especially,  are  not  charitable.  Look,  it  may  be 
urged,  at  their  hospitals,  their  missions,  their 
institutions ;  look  at  the  many  societies,  with. 
their  annual  feasts  benevolently  eaten  by  the 
rich,  to  relieve  the  poor.  Yes,  but  look  at  THEIR 
MEANS.  That  which  is  done  for  charity's  sake 
might  be  truly  wonderful  in  Sweden,  but  here  it 
is  shamelessly  little.  How  constantly  do  the 
"  respectable"  citizens  of  London  excuse  them- 
selves from  attending  to  anything  beneficial  to 
the  poor,  because,  forsooth,  they  have  not  time 
— important  business  may  not  be  neglected ; 
and  so  that  important  business  is  neglected.  I 
am  inclined  to  believe  that  these  people  really 
persuade  themselves  (absurd  and  preposterous 
as  it  is)  that  they  have  not  time  to  amend  the 
condition  of  the  poor,  because  they  so  often 
show  they  have  not  leisure  to  be  good  or 
wise.  Did  bags  of  useless  gold  for  pillows  ren- 
der a  deathbed  easier,  their  conduct  might  be 
commendable. 

Too  great  praise,  I  was  saying,  cannot  be 
given  to  the  small  class  who  labour  on  untiring- 
ly and  undauntedly,  in  a  manner  almost  to  re- 
deem their  country's  dishonour — for  its  insensi- 
bility to  the  wants  of  the  poor  is  dishonour — who 
struggle  on  eloquently  and  energetically,  to 
make  England  more  Christian,  to  subdue  the 
monsters  ignorance  and  indigence ;  but  when 
they  are  not  supported  by  the  mass,  their  efforts 
avail  little.  Wrere  there  really,  and  throughout 
the  kingdom,  a  desire  to  benefit  the  poor,  it 
would  soon  in  a  representative  government  con- 
strain the  executive  as  the  first  step  to  adopt 
measures  for  general,  why  not  say  universal, 
instruction.  But  as  this  feeling  exists  not,  Par- 
liament is  satisfied  with  trying  ever  and  anon 
a  few  experiments  in  education.  The  Lords 
Spiritual  and  Temporal,  the  Commons'  House 
of  Parliament,  the  Most  Honourable  the  Privy 
Council,  the  Right  Honourable  the  Secretaries 
of  State,  experimentalizing  pettily  in  education, 


36 


LETTERS    FROM 


and  that  like  Corporation  wiseacres  in  some  ,  would  it  be,  then,  for  the  richest  people  in  the 
small  town,  but  more  bunglingly  !    Ho !  ye  who  (  world  to  go  and  do  likewise  !     But,  as  I  have 


are  subtile  in  caricature !  O  keen-witted  sirs 
of  the  London  Charivari  !  poignant  H.  B. ! 
where  are  your  pencils  ! 

I  accounted  it  a  wholesome  symptom  when 
the  Imperial  Parliaments  took  to  enactments 
about  dogs ;  it  looked  like  going  back  to  first 
principles ;  from  sound  canine,  British  states- 
men, happily,  may  advance  to  successful  pauper 


legislation.     Heaven  speed  the  day  ! 
Suppose  it  be  admitted  that  ignoranct 


and 


penury  in  some  form  must  exist — what  then"? 
Fevers  and  agues  must  exist,  but  men  take 
means,  and  timely  means,  to  remedy  them  ;  and 
with  such  success,  that  the  bodily  ague  is  al- 
most unknown  in  England,  while  the  ague  of 
ignorance  paralyzes  the  well-being  of  the  land. 
Why  this  disinclination  to  educate  the  poor,  to 
elevate  them  from  the  rank  of  inferior  animals  ! 
whfi'  is  its  cause  1  Selfishness.  The  English 
strl;..  hness  forbids  it,  and  for  two  reasons  :  to 
impart  tuition  to  so  many  might,  by  some  almost 
imperceptible  amount,  diminish  the  hoards  of 
the  rich  man ;  and  by  making  the  labouring 
classes  more  intelligent,  his  own  knowledge, 
eloquence,  and  wit  would  be  less  conspicuous  ; 
he  would  not  be  so  very  an  oracle  ;  suicidal  to 
his  self-love,  to  the  sacredness  of  his  self-con- 
ceit, therefore,  would  it  be  to  advance  into  in- 
tellectual beings  the  mere  hewers  of  wood  and 
drawers  of  water — and  suicide  is  sinful !  Great 
as  might  be  the  benefit  to  the  lojver  and  lowest 
classes  from  careful  teaching,  as  great  a  boon 
would  the  general  extension  of  knowledge  be 
to  the  middle  classes,  for  they  would  then  be 
compelled,  in  order  to  maintain  the  respect  to 
which  they  hold  themselves  entitled,  to  be  more 
intelligent,  more  unprejudiced,  better  read,  and 
better  mannered  than  they  are.  Talk  of  charity 
as  an  attribute  of  the  opulent  English  people — 
talk  of  their  caring  for  the  poor !  Verily,  as  one 
of  old  affected  to  care,  and  surely  even  in  this 
precedent-loving  country  he  would  not  be  ad- 
vanced as  an  example.  Charity,  care  for  the 
poor  in  England  as  a  nation — how  duly  record 
them  1  I  know  but  one  meet  way — 
"  Write  the  characters  in  dust, 
Stamp  them  on  the  running  stream. 
Print  them  on  the  moon's  pale  beam." 

To  remove  poverty  may  be  far  more  difficult 
than  to  dispel  ignorance,  but  poverty  strikes 
deepest  root  amid  ignorance  as  its  most  con- 
genial soil,  and,  that  removed,  the  spread  of 
poverty  is  checked  at  once ;  it  may  grow  then, 


shown  you,  the  Englishman's  selfishnes  restrains 
him,  so  he  resorts  to  his  pet  fallacy  of  "  impos- 
sible." Albeit  once  a  year,  or  let  me  be  just, 
sometimes  twice,  he  fills  his  mouth  after  the 
good  things  of  a  charity  banquet  with  fine  phra- 
ses of  "the  benevolence  and  philanthropy  of 
this  great  city,  of  this  mighty  empire,"  and  sits 
down  in  rapturous  admiration  of  the  institution 
of  which  he  considers  himself  an  important  part. 
Philanthropy  !  Benevolence  !  Brave  words,  like 
those  the  Ancient  spoke  at  the  bridge,  and  with 
as  much  meaning  in  them. 

It  is  curious  to  observe  with  how  little  inqui- 
ry foreigners  conclude  that  the  English  are  a 
charitable  people :  the  evidence,  the  many  in- 
stitutions supported  by  voluntary  benevolence. 
These  actually  prove  the  exceptions.  The  very 
fact  that  institutions  (especially  those  of  a  reli- 
gious and  scholastic  nature)  must  be  thus  provi- 
ded, shows  that  there  is  not  in  the  people  at 
large  a  body  of  kindliness  and  charity  sufficient 
to  influence  the  Legislature  to  make  permanent 
provision  for  these  wants  of  the  poor. 

The  English  have  a  ready  way  to  account  for 
any  depreciation  of  their  excellences  —  preju- 
dice, always  prejudice,  and  a  foreigner's  misun- 
derstanding. There  was  murder  once  commit- 
ted on  the  frontiers  of  Louisiana ;  the  murderer, 
to  get  rid  of  the  disagreeable  inculpation,  coolly 
declared,  "  It  all  arose  from  ignorance  of  the 
use  of  the  firearms  ;  they  had  misunderstood  the 
nature  of  those  particular  pistols  !"  And  thus 
every  foreigner  misunderstands  the  nature  of 
the  British  character ;  this  seems  almost  a  uni- 
versal belief  in  England  ;  more  so  than  in  Amer- 
ica, far  more  so  ;  and  the  English  seem  to  con- 
nect another  article  of  faith  with  it,  to  wit,  that 
they  never,  or  very  rarely,  misunderstand  the 
character  of  the  people  of  other  countries  ;  the 
very  coolness  manifested  upon  this  subject 
shows  how  deeply  rooted  is  the  belief;  it  is 
treated  as  if  an  established  truism,  a  thing  be- 
yond dispute — irrefragable ! 

I  gladly  turn  to  a  more  favourable  view  of  the 
English :  brave  are  they,  as  the  four  quarters 
of  the  world  can  testify ;  handsome ;  enterpri- 
sing ;  learned  in  all  arts  and  sciences  ;  true  to 
their  words ;  just  in  their  dealings  ;  exemplary, 
with  some  few  exceptions,  in  domestic  virtues ; 
daunted  by  no  difficulties ;  with  a  spirit  that 
rarely  blenches,  and  a  patience  and. endurance 
that  seldom  weary.  Travellers  have  said — that 
is,  some  travellers — (I  will  not  inquire  how  tru- 


it  mutt  abound  now.      Then  couid  the  very,    ty)  that  the  Americans  are  not  an  amiable  peo- 
very  many  possessors  of  enormous  wealth  be'-1-     T«- .„„  „,!.«;»  ;.,„»  <•«_ .u« „„!,„  ««•„»„. ,m««« 
induced  to  venture  upon  a  prudent  and  judicious 
expenditure  of  a  portion  of  it,  how  much  good 
might  be  effected.     It  is  true  no  government 
has  or  can  have  a  right  to  compel  individuals  to 
use  their  riches  otherwise  than  they  will ;  but 
is  there  no  moral  obligation ;  and  would  not  a 


pie.  If  we  admit,  just  for  the  sake  of  argument, 
that  it  is  so,  unamiability  must  be  hereditary ; 
the  Americans  have  had  it  from  their  forefa- 
thers, whose  English  descendants  possess  it 
now;  but  greater  pains  have  apparently  been 
taken  to  preserve  it  in  this  country,  to  prevent 
its  being  found  degenerate,  when 


From  sire  to  son,  with  pious  zeal  bequeath'd ;" 
for  it  certainly  is  in  greater  perfection  here  than 


better  state  of  things,  a  society  farther  advanced 
in  intelligence  and  Christian  wisdom,  compel 
snch  men,  by  its  pure  scorn  of  their  selfish  pal- 
triness, to  pursue  a  course  less  opposed  to  the  I  with  us,  though  overrated,  I  think,  in  both  com 
dictates  of  reason  and  the  commands  of  God  1      munities,  cis  and  transatlantic. 

In  America  how  much  has  been  done  for  edu-  Believe  a  great  many  French,  and  a  few 
cation,  as  well  as  in  many  poor  countries,  even  |  American  and  even  English  scribes,  and  ruin 
in  those  where  the  blessings  of  freedom  are  far  j  menaces  Great  Britain:  ruin  —  in  what  is  it 
less  known  than  in  Great  Britain;  how  easy  j  manifest  ?  Are  her  riches  diminished  ?  archer 


AN   AMERICAN   LADY. 


87 


soldiers  and  sailors  less  courageous?  her  man- 
ufacturers less  skilful }  her  merchants  less  sa- 
gacious 1  her  daughters  less  virtuous  *  No.  I 
can  see  no  danger  whatever  to  the  Britannic 
empire — none,  that  is,  from  without.  Internal 
dangers,  it  may  not  be  questioned,  exist ;  but 
they  have  long  existed  (some  diseases  are  co- 
existent with  a  long  life),  and  they  may  be  found 
in  the  same  state  for  ages  yet  to  come  ;  the  en- 
ergy of  the  British  character  makes  the  country 
prosperous  in  spite  of  these  perils  within  it.  A 
quarter,  nay,  a  tithe  of  the  vigour  expended  in 
one  single  year  by  the  English,  to  accumulate 
wealth  for  no  purpose  but  personal  pride  in  it, 
would  suffice  to  lay  the  foundations  of  a  system 
in  which  those  evils  would  have  small  prepon- 
derance :  but  they  will  not. 

I  do  not  think  that  abstract  love  of  country 
flourishes  in  England ;  and  it  may  be  true  that 
were  any  great  demand  made  upon  the  vir- 
tue, the  patriotism,  the  self-denial  of  the  peo- 
ple, the  utmost  danger  to  the  state  might  be  ap- 
prehended :  for,  instead  of  these  qualities,  there 
might  be  found  in  the  ranks  of  the  prosperous 
the  curse  of  prosperity,  heartlessness ;  in  the 
mass  of  the  middle  classes,  deep-rooted  and 
most  robust  selfishness ;  and  in  the  poor,  igno- 
rance, and  its  constant  comrade,  recklessness. 
But  this  is  to  put  a  very  extreme  case. 

Of  the  fondness  of  the  English  for  foreign 
grievances  one  should  not  speak  too  severely ; 
it  may  be  but  the  sort  of  feeling  honest  Rip  Van 
Winkle  had,  for  Rip  was  fond  of  attending  to 
anybody's  business  rather  than  his  own.  To 
be  sure,  one  cannot  but  wonder  that  so  little  is 
thought  of  the  cry  throughout  the  kingdom  for 
more  churches,  schools,  and  hospitals ;  and  so 
much  of  the  wants  of  rather  dubious  people, 
who  dwell  or  roam  by  the  Nile  or  the  Niger,  it 
may  be  thought  strange,  I  say,  that  they  who 
wish  to  instruct  the  natives  of  Nubia,  may  not 
care  to  teach  the  dwellers  in  Lancashire  ;  but 
it  may  be  contended,  also,  that  Nubia  is,  or 
should  be,  the  better  for  them,  and  Lancashire 
can  be  none  the  worse.  The  Americans  have 
their  foreign  schools  and  missions,  but  they 
care,  and  amply,  for  home  instruction  first.  I 
would  not  be  thought  anxious  to  censure  too 
freely  the  sometimes  rather  theatrical  displays 
in  Exeter  Hall  touching  these  foreign  matters. 
.Mr.  N.  accounts  for  them  by  saying  that  there 
is  here  (so  with  us)  a  large  class  of  young  ladies 
who  conscientiously  abjure  as  sinful  the  pleas- 
ures of  the  ballroom  or  the  theatre  ;  and  as  it 
really  appears  a  necessity  of  our  nature  to  have 
some  enjoyment  or  excitement,  Exeter  Hall 
serves  occasionally  for  an  assembly-room  and  a 
stage.  We  must  not  too  searchingly  inquire, 
"  What's  in  a  name?" 

The  English  contend  that  there  is  not  in  the 
Urited  States  a  refinement  of  manners  equal  to 
their  own — there  may  not  be  the  parade  of  it. 
The  English  bow  and  walk  differently  (they  say, 
more  gracefully),  they  simper  and  small-talk 
more  ;  and  though  they  may  flatter  ladies  more, 
they  do  not  prize  them  so  much,  while  the  treat- 
ment of  our  sex  is  the  best  touchstone  of  real  re- 
finement and  civilization.  I  cannot  conceive 
anything  more  absurd,  or  bolder  in  its  absurdity, 
than  for  travellers  to  assert,  while  they  admit- 
ted the  irreproachable  character  of  American 
ladies,  that  they  exercised  little  influence  upon 


society  !  As  well  say  there  was  much  sunshine 
in  the  State  of  Georgia,  but  it  had  little  effect 
upon  the  produce  of  the  earth.  I  confess  I  have 
very  considerable  doubts  of  this  refinement  of 
manners  in  English  gentlemen,  and  for  this  plain 
reason — it  is  not  rooted  in  them  ;  it  is  not  mani- 
fested when  they  are  not  under  conventional 
restraint.  They  must  be  polite  and  forbearing 
in  ladies'  society  ;  but  see  the  same  gentlemen 
strolling  along  the  fashionable  streets,  and  which 
of  them  will  refrain  from  staring  audaciously  at 
every  stranger  lady  he  meets,  no  matter  who  she 
may  be ;  did  any  one  of  the  ladies  of  Queen  Vic- 
toria's court  venture  to  walk  out  unattended,  she 
would  be  subjected  to  this  vulgar  persecution. 
This  is  one  reason  why  the  use  of  carriages  of 
all  kinds  is  so  very  frequent— ladies  cannot  walk 
forth  alone. 

I  have  heard  it  stated,  "  0  these  are  chiefly 
the  manners  of  young  gentlemen  ;  they  may 
learn  better  as  they  grow  older."  Is  it  not 
rather  a  novelty  in  argument  to  advance  youth 
as  an  excuse  for  arrogant  impropriety  1  Where 
an  American  gentleman  would  quietly  step  aside 
to  allow  a  lady  of  any  condition  in  life  to  pass 
without  annoyance,  an  English  gentleman  will 
loiter  to  stare  pertinaciously,  and  to  his  full  sat- 
isfaction— her  dissatisfaction  is  nothing  cared 
about.  Which  is  the  best  mannered]  To  say 
that  they  are  not  English  gentlemen  who  act 
thus,  is  equivalent  to  saying  there  is  hardly  an 
English  gentleman  in  the  streets  of  London — 
even  in  the  streets  where,  from  the  number  of 
clubhouses  or  other  causes,  they  most  do  con- 
gregate. Drawing-room  manners  seem  to  be 
accounted  all-sufficient  for  a  London  gentle- 
man ;  he  is  emancipated  from  their  thraldom 
when  he  exchanges  the  wax-light  for  the  open 
air. 

Another  doctrine  (if  I  may  call  it  so)  passes 
for  orthodox,  that  a  royal  court  and  a  titled  ar- 
istocracy tend  to  the  refinement  of  all  classes, 
down  to  the  lowest ;  that  their  refinement  in- 
fluences all  manner  of  men.  This,  I  think,  is 
one  of  the  many  dogmas  here, 

"  Whose  right 
Suits  not  in  native  colours  with  the  truth." 

At  any  rate,  there  seems  but  the  horn  of  a  di- 
lemma for  those  who  have  faith  in  this  English 
credence.  The  lowest  classes  in  this  kingdom 
are  coarse,  brutal,  and  stupid  beyond  those  of 
the  United  States,  so  that  either  it  is  not  in 
the  nature  of  things  that  this  vaunted  refine- 
ment should  duly  reach  the  poorest  plebeians, 
or  (more  probably)  that  it  exists  not  in  vigour 
enough  to  do  so.  I  think,  therefore,  that  this 
much-extolled  attribute  of  British  aristocracy 
is  but  conventional  gentility,  a  mere  surface  of 
elegance  ;  because  consistent  refinement  is  not 
shown  in  the  gentlemen's  manners,  while  their 
favourite  place  of  amusement  is  often  remark- 
able for  the  opposite  of  true  refinement — it 
yields  but  a  vulgar  joy. 

I  have  said  little  of  the  ladies  of  England  ; 
perhaps  a  gentleman  would  have  written  far 
more  of  them  and  less  of  the  rougher  sex.  It 
is  difficult  to  describe  when  no  striking  charac- 
teristics present  themselves.  The  ladies  are 
elegant,  beautiful,  and  good ;  and  that  said, 
what  remains'!  Their  influence  upon  society  is 
most  beneficial ;  their  beauty  is  somewhat  fuller 
in  its  character  than  with  us ;  perhaps  it  would 


LETTERS    FROM    AN"    AMERICAN    LADY. 


be  more  correct  to  say  they  are  less  slim  in 
form  and  less  delicate  in  feature  (as  a  rule) 
than  are  American  ladies.  I  have  no  hesitation 
in  saying  they  are  not  selfish  like  the  men — in- 
deed, I  think  it  is  not  in  woman's  nature  to  he  j 
so.  It  may  be  said  selfishness,  like  disease,  is 
everywhere  :  why  dwell  upon  its  prevalence  in  ! 
England  ?  Because  among  the  English  this  i 
quality  presents  a  wondrous  freedom  from  alloy  | 
not  found  elsewhere  ;  it  has  been  purged  from  j 
all  deteriorating  adjuncts — it  is  the  very  purity  j 
of  selfishness. 


And  now  to  bid  farewells.  I  do  believe  that 
if  I  lived  to  be  old  and  doting,  if  I  forgot  in 
the  evening  what  happened  in  the  morning,  i 
should  still  remember  the  kindness  I  have  ex- 
perienced in  England ;  it  would  form  a  bright 
green  spot  in  memory's  waste — nay.  in  memo- 
ry's garden.  In  all  human  probability  I  shall 
never  see  these  friends  again.  One  of  the  most 
pitiful  lines  I  ever  read  is  the  exclamation  of 
fierce  Roderic  Dhu : 

'•  It  is  the  last  time — 'tis  the  last." 


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